Trying
by LeSkuh
Summary: Fate, in the form of Arnold, collapses onto a twenty-five year old Helga G. Pataki's front step as she runs late for work one fine summer's day - effectively turning her life upside down and then stomping on it for good measure.
1. Alive

**Chapter One  
**(_In which Helga G. Pataki is late…_)

Helga G. Pataki is late.

Again.

These days everything seems to be slipping away from her. She's only twenty-five and she already feels like the world is passing her by. If someone had told her even just three years ago that she'd still be living in dreary Hillwood working the same waitress gig and living paycheck to paycheck at this point in her life, she would have punched them in the face. No questions asked.

Things change.

She pours herself a cup of coffee (_real_ coffee - no ice cubes, because she is not her mother) and runs a hand through her tangled mess of blonde hair. She's been growing it out again, she thinks. It seems that way at least. She cropped it real short back in the eighth grade - rocked a Mohawk for a little bit in ninth and then kept it at a manageable length, resting on her shoulders, for the rest of her high school career.

Helga isn't sure why she is thinking about hair.

She realizes somewhere in the back of her mind that she's stalling. She's not even dressed yet and her shift starts in fifteen minutes.

Helga takes another sip of her real coffee.

Before slamming the mug down on the table and running up the stairs.

Three minutes and ten seconds later, Helga G. Pataki is huffing and puffing as she tugs on her work shoes and tries to keep her wits about her. As much as she hates it, she can't get fired from this job. It's the only thing she has to keep her afloat, since her writing career went and….

Sunk.

She tries not to think about it.

Because the whole thing is too heavy for her to deal with these days and she's going to be _late_ if she doesn't get her butt out the door in the next thirty seconds.

She doesn't have time to examine the parts of her that she forced herself to bury on that day just three years ago. She has to keep moving and keep breathing and not think about anything, except little stuff like the oh so interesting hairstyles she has had over the course of her lifetime.

(she doesn't want to think about what it's like to walk around without feeling anything at all)

Helga steadies her breathing as she sits on the floor and holds a hand to her head.

Then she hoists herself off the ground and snatches up her purse as she walks to the front door. She does not think about how it feels to be alive without really living. She just crosses the hall and puts her hand to the doorknob. Twists it. Exhales.

Helga G. Pataki opens the door.

She's greeted by jellybean-green eyes attached to someone she'd never expected to see again.

"Helga." He mutters.

Arnold Shortman collapses on the front step of a woman who is sleeping through her life. Arnold Shortman falls into a dead faint on the stoop of an old friend who is not going to be able to make it to work today. Arnold Shortman drops into Helga G. Pataki's world once more.

And for the first time in three years….

Helga is alive.

* * *

**notes: **It's not much, but it's a start.


	2. Awake

**Chapter Two  
**(_In which there is a truly bizarre quirk of fate..._)

It takes her a good twenty minutes to drag him from her stoop to the couch. She spends another five struggling to lift him up and onto said couch.

"Jesus, what have you been eating, Footballhead - _bricks_?" She grunts as she finally manages to roll him onto the sofa. Arnold does not respond to the insult, or anything at all really. He's out.

She's not really sure what to do now.

"I am not really sure what to do now," She says aloud as she rubs her elbows. She decides to sit down on the floor beside the couch and look up. Not the most active plan in the world, but she doesn't really trust herself to make any real decisions at the moment. She moves from rubbing her elbows to running both hands up and down the entirety of her arms. She has goosebumps.

And she's shaking.

Crying too.

"Dammit" She whispers as she sobs into her hands. "Dammit dammit damn fuck." She realizes that she's incoherent, but Arnold doesn't seem to mind (he doesn't really seem to be doing much of anything save breathing actually). She feels like her whole world has been tipped on its side and is also spinning in circles at an impossibly fast rate - oh, and it's on fire. She's panting like she's just run a stupid marathon and she can't stop crying.

She bolts into the kitchen and doesn't turn around to look at him.

It's times like this that she wishes that she could drink life away like her mother did, because she imagines everything would be a whole hell of a lot easier to deal with. She is not prepared for this.

She lets her head fall back against the wall.

"You're supposed to be dead, you idiot." She breathes as the tears leak down her cheeks. "You can't be lying comatose in my living room, because you died three years ago, Arnold." She remembers the day she heard the news all too well.

She'd been late for work that day too.

And then, right before she'd managed to make it out the door, the call came through. Phoebe, of course.

Her best friend had only managed to get two words out before Helga understood.

"Helga…he's…."

She'd hung up before Phoebe could say anything else.

Now, here she is three years later with a rather not-dead Arnold passed out on her living room sofa.

Crimeny.

She steals the tiniest sliver of a glance back towards the couch to assure herself that she isn't dreaming.

She's not.

But she doesn't really feel any better.

She'd put him behind her as well she could. Even before he 'died', she'd basically given up all hope on Arnold and her whole entire little dream world. After all, she hadn't even spoken to the guy since he moved away back at the end of seventh grade.

(right before she'd cut off all her hair, she remembers)

And even before then…. It'd been nothing but a fantasy. That's why they'd broken up back when they were just kids, right? She wasn't Lila and he wasn't perfect and they kept expecting each other to be something else and how was that fair?

But still, there'd always been this… something. She still doesn't really know _what_. But it kept her moving forward.

As long as there was Arnold there was hope.

And then he went and got himself killed (or so they'd all thought) and even though she hadn't talked to the boy (man) in over seven years it still felt like somebody had ripped out her insides and ran them into the ground.

The shaking has stopped for the most part, but her breathing is still sort of uneven. She gets herself a glass of water and tries to focus her mind on anything other than Arnold.

It doesn't really work.

She sighs heavily as she makes her way back towards the couch. She plops down on the ground beside him and rests her head on her arm. She absentmindedly watches him breathe in and out while her brain shuts down almost completely.

"It's like you've come back from the dead." She says softly to her very first love.

Then, ever so slowly, she lifts her other arm up and moves it towards his face. His hair is falling onto his eyelids and she never thought that she'd see him again.

Not in a billion years.

She's about to brush a few wayward strands of his hair aside, when his eyes flutter open.

Helga stops dead, her hand still hovering over the top of his forehead.

Arnold is awake.

**

* * *

notes:** Just popping in to say: Hi! It's been...a LONG time since I've made an attempt at any sort of multi-chaptered story or posted anything to FFN. So hurray for getting back to my roots! I'll post the next two chapters soonish.


	3. Fearless

**Chapter Three  
**(_In which Arnold shakes a lot..._)

"Fuck." He exhales the obscenity like it's as simple as breathing. Helga is still frozen in place, but something in the back of her mind is affronted at the not-dead man's first word to her.

She only has a moment to feel insulted, before he pushes her aside and rolls onto the ground. Then he's on his feet, swaying just a little as he stumbles towards the kitchen. She stares at him wordlessly from the ground, still not really sure how to feel about everything that has happened so far this morning.

"Gotta…gotta move. And you can't…." His hands are shaking as he tugs them through his wild hair. His shirt hangs loose on his torso, but she can still see hints of the body beneath. She notices, absentmindedly, that he's no longer fifteen.

Neither is she.

"What are…." He isn't making much sense to her, but she isn't all that surprised. An elephant could drop into the room and she wouldn't really be shocked at all. She's already seeing a dead man walk.

Suddenly, he turns to look at her. Her insides begin to boil under his stare, which she returns just as forcefully.

"You weren't supposed to be here." He says finally.

She raises an eyebrow at him and crosses her arms over her chest. She's still sitting on the ground by the couch, staring him down from across the room. He's still shaking, though his hands have managed to come to an uncomfortable rest on the doorframe. Helga can feel her heart pounding in her head.

"I live here. Doi. Where else should I be?"

She notices that his breathing is getting more erratic. He's got more than just a hand on the door to steady him now - his whole body is leaning on it for support. She gets to her feet and moves towards him.

"Whoa, why don't you sit down or something? You look like he-"

"I didn't know this was your house." He whispers, before finally loosing his balance and toppling forward. She manages to keep him from smacking his head against the wooden floorboards, but he still goes down hard. He's close to passing out again.

"Hey." She says as she gently shakes his shoulders. "What is going on? Hey, Arn-…."

She stops.

She hasn't said his name for three years now.

"Come on, stay awake." She's shaking him a little harder now. His eyes flutter open and close again. "You big stupid idiot thing. Stay awake and tell me what you meant - what you're doing here!" She yells at him, but it doesn't seem to do much good. He passes out again, his head resting on her knee. She sighs heavily and leans her back against the side of her coffee table.

Without really thinking, she places her hand on top of his head and brushes his hair out of his face.

His eyes twitch.

Helga contents herself with staring at the wall for the next fifteen minutes - thoughts flicker in and out of her head, but nothing stays. She feels worn out and exhausted.

She never called work to tell them she wouldn't be able to make it in today.

Strike 24. She is most assuredly out.

"Oh well, it was a crap job anyway." She mumbles.

"Huh?"

"Hello again, Sleeping Beauty." She taunts (same old Helga, she thinks to herself). He blinks.

"Fuck." He says.

"Y'know, this is not the first time you have said that to me today, Football-face. And I'll have you know that it's not quite as amusing the second time around." She tells him, her hand now far from his face, resting on the ground beside her. He looks at her wearily and she finally gets her first good look at him. Once again, she thinks about how strange it is that he's no longer fifteen - even weirder that she's grown too. When did she get so damn old?

He makes an attempt to force himself off the ground again, but she puts her weight against his shoulders to pin him down.

"Lay down for a minute. You're obviously still mixed up." She says.

He glares at her and her grip on his shoulders falters.

(there's too much hatred in his eyes for him to really be…)

"Arnold?" Her voice comes out kind of tiny and meek - it's foreign to her, but somewhere in the back of her brain she realizes that it's the voice she's been using for a long time now. Too long, she thinks.

He says nothing, only uses her unsteadiness to his advantage as he suddenly sits upright. He stands once more, as shaky as before, but with a determined expression on his face. He starts a slow walk to the door.

She scrambles to her feet and runs ahead of him, thrusting her arms out across the hallway.

"Move." He says through clenched teeth. He sways a little, but manages to keep his balance. He's still glaring.

But Helga isn't backing down that easy.

"Not until you explain -" She waves her hands around. "- _all of this_."

Instead, he grunts and pushes past her. The sudden movement catches her off guard. She tries to hold her ground, but it's been years since she's worked out and he's stronger than he used to be.

(when the hell did they become not-fifteen?)

He gets to the door and has to steady himself for a second. She realizes somewhere in the back of her mind that he's leaving and never ever coming back.

"I-…" But she doesn't know what to say to make the fire deep inside her bones stop raging.

He doesn't look at her.

"It's better that you don't know anything." He says quietly. His hand is on the doorknob and shaking so bad that she thinks it might rattle the handle right off the door. "Good-bye Helga. Sorry." And with that he throws open the door and steps onto the front step.

Helga screams as a shot rings out. Arnold dives to the ground and scrambles back inside, slamming the door shut behind him.

In one fluid movement, he lifts Helga to her feet and tugs her along after him.

"Fuck fuck fuck!" He yells, before stopping dead. He whips around to face her. She realizes then that there are tears on her cheeks. She ought to wipe them away, but she's forgotten how to move.

"Helga," He says slowly, begging for her to understand despite the ringing in her head. He presses a hand to her arm and it's only then that she realizes she's bleeding. She is bleeding and he is not fifteen or dead and she knows then that, like it or not, things are going to be changing drastically from here on out.

"We need to find another way out of here and as quickly as humanly possible. Okay Helga? Helga?" He shakes her shoulders as she stares at him through blank eyes.

Nothing will ever be the same, she thinks.

His emerald eyes are locked onto her own baby-blues when she suddenly realizes something very important.

Helga is not afraid.

* * *

**notes: **Thanks for all the feedback guys! The next chapter should be up in a day or so. After that updates will be a bit more spaced out (I haven't written them yet XD)

Also, if you're interested in seeing artwork for this story, check out my profile for a link to where I'll be posting up sketches and character designs from time to time.


	4. Escape

**Chapter Four  
**(_In which our heroes make their daring escape..._)

Everything sort of clicks into place and Helga finds that she can breathe again. Next thing she knows, she's leading Arnold back down the hallway, crosses the living room and stops by a window at the back of the building. He raises an eyebrow at her.

"We'll climb out, cut through the back alley and then run."

He shakes his head.

"Not good enough. They'll be on us the second we step foot on the ground. And we need an actual vehicle in order to lose them." He turns to lean his back against the wall and threads his fingers through his hair. Helga rubs an elbow, before sighing and sitting down next to him.

"I think you owe me an explanation or two, Arnold." She tells him. He grunts noncommittally as a response. She figures that's good enough for the moment. "You'll tell me once we get out of here." She continues. "In any case, I don't have any mode of transportation besides my feet and the bus. And the next shuttle isn't due for another -" She glances up at the clock on the wall. "Twenty-three minutes."

"It wouldn't be a good idea to use public transportation anyway. We should avoid people as best we can. We don't want to get anyone involved." His eyes are closed and she notices that he's no longer shaking.

"We?" She asks, startled.

He tilts his head just a tiny bit in her direction.

"For now anyway." He sighs heavily, before standing up straight. He turns to her. "Are there any other exits?"

"Well, there's a fire escape out the upstairs bedroom window, but the ladders gone. It snapped off awhile back and no one came around to repair - hey!" Arnold's already headed for the stairs, not even bothering to glance back at her. Helga scrambles up the steps behind him, grabbing for her purse on the way up. "Could you slow down, you big idiot? We can't get down from the fire escape! At least not without breaking our legs." She's getting more than a little fed up with having him run circles around her. It's been less than hour that he's been brought back to life and she's already annoyed with him - she wishes she had time to stop and laugh at that.

He's already across the bedroom and leaning out the window when she enters the room.

"Get back in here!" She yells. Her hands are clenched into tight fists and she's wondering if now's a good time to bring Old Betsy and the Five Avengers out of retirement. Years ago, she would have never been able to bring herself to lay even a single hand on this golden boy, but apparently things have changed, because right now she wants nothing more than to pound him to the ground and force him to _explain himself_. She feels like she's running around without air.

"Perfect." She hears him say. He looks back at her. "You ready?"

She just stares at him.

"Helga," The tone of his voice changes so that it sounds like he's speaking to a small child or a very dumb animal. "We've got to go, okay?"

"Arnold," She says, matching his tone. "There's no way that I am jumping off the fire escape."

He narrows his eyes.

"Don't be stupid, Helga." He points up. "We're climbing onto the roof." Suddenly his expression softens and he crosses the room to where she stands. She flinches as he reaches out a hand to her arm. "And you need to wrap this up." She tilts her head to see that her arm is still trickling blood. Right, she's been shot. She'd forgotten already.

She pushes his arm away.

"It just grazed me. I'm fine. Anyway, what do you mean climb onto the roof? We'll just be trapped up there! How is that going to help us escape?" She crosses her arms over her chest and glares at him. He doesn't waiver and she thinks, briefly, that maybe he hasn't changed all that much. He was never afraid of her.

"We'll pull up the ladder that goes to the roof and use it as a bridge between your house and the one next door. Then we'll crawl across." With that he scrambles out the window and begins his ascent to the roof. Helga blinks, while her insides freeze.

"What?"

She stumbles out onto the fire escape and looks up at him, still gaping.

"Are you _crazy_?" She tries to sound bold, but her voice gets caught and she only just manages to squeak the words. He grins at her, but doesn't say anything else. Only disappears completely from view. She can hear him moving about up on the roof. She doesn't move.

Another shot rings out.

Helga screams and Arnold's face reappears.

"Get up here now!" He shouts. She scampers up the ladder in two seconds flat. The world tips onto it's side as she rolls onto the roof and lies down on the warm concrete. She's shaking all over and Arnold starts prodding her, turning over her limbs and examining them. "I don't think you've been shot Helga. I don't even think they saw you." He says.

"Well thank fucking god for that you big dumb asshole! I could have been _killed_!" He pats her hand and then turns from her. She watches as he pulls a small screwdriver out of his back pocket and sets to work on unscrewing the ladder from its rightful place at the fire escape. "We're really going to do this?" She sort of doesn't want to know.

"Yeah."

With a sigh, she pulls herself upright and tries to calm herself down. She's always been prone to hysterics, but this definitely isn't the time.

"Hey," He says softly, shooting her a half-hearted smile. "At least there's no rats."

She grunts.

"Oh thanks so much, Arnoldo. I feel _ever so_ wonderful now." She does her best Lila imitation (she's gotten rusty over the years, ragging on Lila got infinitely less fun when Arnold was a thousand miles away). Surprisingly, however, Arnold laughs. Helga feels just a little bit lighter.

The last screw falls to the fire escape below and she watches as he pauses. His hair hangs down over his eyes and he looks exhausted.

"Helga, I'm sorry." He says softly. She clucks her tongue.

"Whatever, let's just… get this over with," And with that she leans down beside him and together they lift the ladder up and onto the roof. Grunting, they manage to lay it across the long drop between her rooftop and the next one over. They stop to stare at the distance between.

"You should go first," Arnold says. "I'll keep you moving."

"I'm not afraid," Helga bluffs.

Neither one moves.

"Arnold," Helga whispers. "What are we going to do when we get across? Won't they just move to attacking Mrs. Grant's house? Arnold, she has a _family_."

He grabs onto her shoulder.

"They haven't noticed us yet, Helga. I'm pretty sure that last shot actually hit the front door."

"Yeah, well." She rubs her elbows and closes her eyes, inhaling deeply. When she opens her eyes again her whole expression has changed. Her face is lined with determination. She turns to him. "All right, let's do this." She moves towards the ladder and carefully maneuvers herself onto one of the rungs.

Arnold is right behind her.

"Just don't look down and you'll be fine."

"No shit, Sherlock."

"Helga."

"Whatever."

She ignores him then and forces herself to look straight ahead. She isn't stupid enough to try walking across the metal bars. She opts for a very slow crawl and attempts the pretend that she is simply crossing a grown up version of the monkey bars. It helps a little.

"Helga, you have to go faster."

She doesn't turn around to look at him, but his voice tells her all that she needs to know. He's nervous.

"Scared, football head?"

"You're still calling me that stupid name?"

"Well, seeing as how the shape of your weird-o skull hasn't changed in the past ten years…."

"Just hurry up, okay?" His voice catches. She nods and tries to pick up the pace, before stopping dead.

"Arnold, my purse - I left it on the fire escape."

He groans.

"Just _move_."

"But…."

"_Helga_."

She makes a face, but he can't see it from his spot behind her. She lets out a small sigh as she finally reaches her neighbor's roof.

A few seconds later, Arnold is scrambling off the ladder. He lands beside her and rubs hands up and down his arms. He's shaking again and she leans down beside him.

"You're going to pass out again, aren't you?"

"No, I just…." He stops. His teeth are chattering. "Need to… the ladder…." He chokes out.

"I'll do it. Just relax for a bit, okay?" He nods as his eyes close and his head falls back against the wall.

She grabs hold of the ladder and attempts to lift it up, but without Arnold's help, the weight of the ladder is too much for her to drag back across the gap. She gasps as the ladder slips from her grasp and goes clattering down to the ground, heavy and loud enough to startle the whole neighborhood. Her hand flies to her mouth, and the next thing she knows, Arnold's got his hand around her wrist again and is leading her to a skylight window. He breaks the glass with his foot and then scrambles around for a latch. He manages to get the window open and pulls her down into a musty smelling room stuffed with boxes.

"You should have waited." He whispers angrily as he glances around the room for a door. She spots it first and heads for it.

"You've been rushing me around since you woke up. I thought speed was our top priority." She snaps.

"I think it's pretty obvious that _not dying_ is our number one priority." He shoots back with a scowl as she opens the door. They step into a small hallway. Helga leads him down towards a stairway.

"Your dismissive tone is really starting to _bug_ me, Arnold."

"Miss Pataki?"

They both freeze and turn around to find a small, brown-haired woman staring at them all bug-eyed. She's wringing her hands nervously.

"How did you get in here? A-and those shots from earlier! I heard you scream and I thought that you were… I called the police, but they haven't come yet and...." Her voice waivers as she finally seems to realize the strangeness of having two people randomly appear in her upstairs hallway, without any consent on her end. "What is…. What's going on here?"

"Mrs. Grant," Helga says gently, "I'm sorry for barging in like this. We're on our way out anyway. J-just stay in here and keep the door locked until the police come and everything will be fine, okay Mrs. - Arnold no!"

It's too late, Arnold catches Mrs. Grant in a sleeper hold and a second later her whole body sags into his arms. Gently, he lays her on the ground and then turns back to Helga.

Just in time for her to land a well-aimed punch to his arm.

"You _jerk_! Who the hell _are_ you? What are you thinking?!"

"I'm thinking," He huffs, "That we're going to need her car and that if the police are coming then we really need to go. Now." He points towards the stairs. Helga scowls, but doesn't say anything else. Only silently fumes as she leads him out to the garage, grabbing Mrs. Grant's keys off of the hook on her way out. Out in the garage, Arnold heads for the driver's side, but Helga cuts him off.

"No way. The last thing we need to deal with is you passing out at the wheel. Passenger side for you, bucko."

"You don't have your driver's license." He glares.

"Yeah, well I'm already committing grand theft auto so what's it gonna matter if we get pulled over anyway?" She snits as she throws open the door and sits down at the wheel without another word. Arnold sighs and goes to the other side.

Inside the car they pause to stare at the garage door, Helga's fingers drum against the opener but she doesn't push the button.

"What's…. Where are we going?" She asks quietly.

He doesn't look at her, but he does gently grab the remote from her hand and hit the button with a very firm push. The garage door lifts and sunlight pours in.

"Home." Is his one-word reply.

Helga sets a course for the boarding house.

* * *

**notes:** Looks like our heroes are digging themselves even deeper into trouble.

Now you'll have to wait a bit for the next chapter. I'm all out!


	5. Trouble

**Chapter Five  
**(_In which Helga receives an invitation and Arnold runs into some trouble..._)

The skin over her knuckles has gone white as she holds the steering wheel in a death grip.

He sighs and lays a hand a top hers.

"Helga."

She doesn't answer, only puffs out her cheeks and keeps her gaze fixated straight ahead of her.

"Helga." He repeats.

"I don't want to talk to you." She snaps.

He laughs at her, but pulls his hand back. Tiredly, he lays his head against the cold glass of the side window and lets his eyes fall shut for a moment. It's been days since he's actually had a chance to rest and let someone else take the reigns.

It's too bad, he thinks to himself, that he can't take her with him.

"So what happens when we get to the Sunset Arms? What's our next plan?" She doesn't take her eyes off the road ahead of her for one moment.

"I'll get out and go in. You go and park yourself at Slausen's and just sit tight until I come to join you."

Finally, she looks at him.

"What?"

"C'mon Helga, listen to me - you'll go park at Slausen's and I - "

"I _heard_ you the first time!" She interrupts angrily. "I just think it's a really stupid idea. We should stay together! Or at least I ought to stay parked in front of the boarding house. Slausen's is blocks away - what if _whatever_ it is that's chasing us gets to you? What then?" Her shoulders quake with rage. "And what are you even going to _do_ there?"

"Trust me." He says.

She snorts loudly, but goes quiet again. She's still heading the right way and Arnold breathes a little sigh of relief.

"If you aren't out in ten minutes I'm coming to get you." She says firmly. He opens his mouth to protest, but she shoots him a glance that lets him know that he has absolutely no say in the matter.

"Fine." He agrees, but he doesn't look happy about it. "But make it fifteen."

"Ten."

"I need time. Helga, be smart about this."

"Be smart about what?" She gripes as she cuts off a car in the other lane entirely on purpose. She's pretty sure that road rage is not going to solve the pounding in her head or the rapid beating of her heart, but she figures it's worth a shot. Besides, if she doesn't let the growing ball of anger inside of her out somehow she's pretty sure she'll switch to punching the shit out of Arnold and then she'll never get her questions answered. "I don't even know what the hell is happening here, Arnoldo. At the moment, my view of the world has basically been shot to pieces. Also, _you are supposed to be __**dead**_!"

He doesn't have anything to say to that.

"Dammit." She swears, before sucking in a huge breath and exhaling slowly. "Fine. Whatever. Fifteen minutes and that's it. And I swear to God if you go and get yourself killed before I have a chance to beat the shit out of you I am going to piss on your grave."

In response, Arnold begins laughing. It's loud and carefree and, at the same time, it kind of sounds like he's in pain. But it's also ridiculously human and most importantly - _alive_. So alive that Helga can feel a part of her slowly knitting itself back together. _He's alive_. He didn't die three years ago and he's living and breathing and here with her and they're in deep shit, but they're in it _together_ and that's enough.

She starts laughing with him, in the same sort of desperate way, as she makes another turn.

"You jerk," She says between giggles. They are slowly calming down. "I don't want to feel better about this."

"Sorry." He tries to say seriously, but the grin on his face kind of ruins it. "No, really. This day isn't exactly going the way I expected either."

"I can't wait to hear all about it."

She makes one last turn and suddenly the old neighborhood looms into view. Their surprisingly lighthearted mood immediately sobers.

The Sunset Arms still stands tall amidst the various shops and buildings on the block. However, it also looks somewhat frightening. No longer the cozy hang out spot that it had once been. The windows are boarded up and the walls are covered in graffiti. One of the front steps has collapsed in a pile of rubble. No lights are on.

"I hate this place." They both say at the same time.

"I never wanted to come back here." He tells her. "When we moved, I promised myself that I'd never step foot in that place again. I didn't want to remember."

"It died when you left." She explains. "I couldn't even jump rope across the street from it. It spooked me. It felt like you were still there - sitting on the other side of the door, but you weren't and that scared me."

"Maybe it died with me." He whispers.

"Arnold?" She asks then as she pulls the car to a stop alongside the Boarding House. "What are you going to do in there? Why come back here if you hate it?"

"Well I -" He stops. He hadn't planned on telling anyone else what he was doing. He really didn't want to get anyone involved. Telling Helga would be like opening up a can of worms. It'd also make the whole situation all the more real. He'd spent the last two weeks of running in a very dream-like state - never entirely sure of what he was doing, saying the plan out loud would solidify it somehow.

She doesn't take her eyes off of him.

Surprising himself, he starts talking.

"When we moved, I took everything with me. All except one book. I…I didn't want to see it anymore. I'd memorized the story anyway. And that damn map…." He trails off. "I left my dad's journal in my old room. I need it now."

And then she understands.

"You're going to find them." She whispers, her eyes wide. "Like when we were nine."

He doesn't even nod, just grunts as he opens the car door and steps out. Slowly, he makes his way to her side of the car and leans his head into the window. She's sitting perfectly still, eyes glued to her hands.

"Slausen's in fifteen, Helga. If the police stop you, you tell them I kidnapped you. You don't know who I am, but you got away. Make up a story. Your neighbor will believe you, I know it."

"I won't get caught." She promises. "I'll be there."

"I know." He smiles at her and then backs up.

"See you then." She says as she puts the car into gear. She waves to him, before starting down the road.

Arnold watches her drive away. Something inside of him twists as she leaves.

He hopes she doesn't hate him when she finds out he lied.

Arnold has no intentions of going to Slausen's in fifteen minutes.

With any luck, he'll never see her again, he thinks to himself as he walks around the side of the building and slowly begins his ascent up the fire escape in order to enter through the skylight. Walking in the front door just feels wrong somehow.

Down the street, Helga is trying very hard to keep control of herself. Her nerves are shot to hell. She makes it to Slausen's and parks out front. She takes her hands off the wheel and closes her eyes in an attempt to settle herself. She lets her head fall back against the back of her seat and turns the air condition all the way up.

She doesn't sleep, but let's herself drift away - just a bit.

BANG BANG BANG!

Helga screams and ducks down onto the seat beside of her.

And then the laughter starts.

Her eyes fly open and she turns to glare daggers at the two figures standing outside the car door laughing like idiots. She growls and throws open the door with considerable force, causing the two men to jump backwards.

"What the hell is wrong with you two?!" She shouts as she clenches her fists. This causes the two men to erupt into another fit of laughter. She lets out a snarl and sits back down in the front seat of the car. She's about to pull the door shut and ignore them completely when a hand darts out to hold the door open.

"Aw, Helga, come on! You should have seen yourself." Sid attempts to compose himself, but keeps breaking into little giggle fits.

"It really was a funny sight. Why I reckon you jumped a whole foot in the air!" Stinky says as he puts a hand on her shoulder. "We really didn't mean no harm by it, Helga."

"Yeah, it was a joke." Sid says with a shrug.

"Ha freaking ha." Helga scowls and crosses her arms over her chest. She absentmindedly bats Stinky's hand away from her shoulder. "Look, I don't really have time for jokes right now. I'm waiting for someone."

"Boyfriend?" Sid asks.

"It's none of your business, Sid." Helga snaps.

"C'mon Pataki, lighten up. You haven't been this irritable in years - it's actually sort of refreshing to see you yelling instead of being your usual mopey self. Anyway, we actually were headed up to your place anyway. Here." With that he hands her a flyer from a small stack of them. She raises an eyebrow at him.

"What is it?"

"One of Rhonda's ideas. Y'know how weird she gets about staying in contact with the old gang? Well this is her latest get-together scheme. I know you don't normally go to these things, but she wanted us to tell you that this one cannot be missed. And she really is going a bit overboard this time. Look -" He points to the middle of the flyer and Helga's eyes go wide as she reads over it.

"She's _buying_ the Sunset Arms and having it completely brought up to code and restored in a week! I-is that even possible?"

"Guess so. Rhonda says it's supposed to be a sort of memorial to Arnold as well, y'know? I mean, she's even planned the date to be the same day that he moved ten years ago. The guest list is huge. She's basically sending these out to anyone who ever knew Arnold. Remember Mr. Simmons, our fourth grade teacher? Even _he's_ supposed to be there. It's gonna be wicked awesome." Sid grins and then hands her another flyer, which she takes in a daze. "That one's for your boyfriend."

Helga scowls.

"A party at the Sunset Arms boarding house," Stinky says, "Who'd have ever thought we'd ever go back there without Arnold runnin' around?"

"Did you guys just say there's going to be a party at the Sunset Arms?"

The three of them turn to find a small group of kids staring up at them in awe. The one who spoke is a small boy with a very freckled nose and dusty blond hair.

"Yeah, what's it to you?" Helga asks.

"Are you guys stupid?" He asks. "That place is haunted!"

"Yeah," a taller girl with rounded glasses and a long brown braid going down the small of her back agrees. "Everyone knows the story of the Sunset Arms. It's an old urban legend! Just like the one about the Girl with the Monstrous Eyebrow and the Lemon Pudding Monster!"

"This cannot be real." Helga whispers to Sid and Stinky. "Please tell me I'm dreaming and this horrible new wave of children and urban legends is just a nightmare."

"C'mon guys, they don't get it. _Adults_." The original sandy-haired boy scoffs.

"Wait." Helga's request makes the kids pause. "I know I'm going to regret this, but what is the story of the Sunset Arms? Why is it haunted?"

"Tell her, Trevor." The glasses girl implores yet another kid - this one with a large gap in the front of his teeth.

"Fine. Lead me in, Paulie." Gap-toothed Trevor says to the sandy-haired kid.

"The legend of the Sunset Arms has been passed down from kid generation to kid generation. And our own Trevor is the Keeper of the Tales." Paulie says with a slight bow towards Trevor at the very end.

"Thanks, Paulie." Trevor smiles. "Years ago when the playgrounds were still divided, even before the great fifth-to-fourth grade truce was called - there lived a most unusual boy. His head, they say, was shaped much like a football and he was the greatest ambassador Hillwood had ever known. He was born of the two greatest adventurers to ever exist and he spent his childhood fighting evil and forging friendships with both the city's elite as well as the residents of it's dark underbelly. He was invincible - the perfect kid."

"But perfection comes with a price and eventually the boy fell into a deep darkness. Nobody really knows why. One day he was fine, kissing babies and saving the world and the next he was empty. And when he became empty, so did the world around him. His darkness spread outside of himself and wrapped all around the Sunset Arms that was his home. From that day on - no one came out. No one goes in. And yet sometimes a light can still be seen coming from skylight windows at the very top of the building."

"Some say he died in there, consumed in some unknowable grief and his death cause the entire place to shut down - the light is the boy, stumbling through his old world. Some say he left first and the Sunset Arms is just waiting for him to return, the light is to help lead him home. Some say it isn't haunted at all! It's just some stupid old building that's been boarded up and left to rot."

"But the one thing that everyone agrees on is that there _was_ a boy and that, even though we don't know exactly where he went or what happened to him, he's not in Hillwood anymore."

"The end." Trevor finishes and takes his bow amidst claps from his fellow classmates. Helga, Stinky and Sid stare at them silently.

"That was…." Sid begins.

"Creepy." Stinky finishes.

"And kind of weirdly accurate." Helga adds. "Well, almost."

"Yeah, so a party there is a really dumb idea." Paulie says as he puts his hands on his hips. "You'd have to be pretty stupid to go in there at all. Especially with all the weird things that have been going on in there recently."

"Weird things?" Helga asks.

"Yeah," The girl butts in. " The legend just talks about the one skylight being on, but lately there's been lots of lights going on at random times. And Janice says she saw two big looking men through the window just yesterday."

"That's weird." Sid frowns and crosses his arms over his chest. "They aren't supposed to start the renovations until tomorrow."

Suddenly Helga feels her insides freeze up.

"What?"

"Yeah, as far as I knew no one's been in the boarding house since Arnold left." Sid continues. "It's locked up pretty tight. Getting inside probably wouldn't be very easy - it'd take quite a bit of brute strength to do it."

"Shit." Helga swears as she suddenly dashes back into the car. The kids let out a giggle at the obscenity, while Sid and Stinky stand back to watch as Helga pulls out and peels away. The car speeds down the road.

"Poor Helga." Stinky says sadly. "She's all shook up by that sad story."

"Let's go, Stinky." Sid says as he starts walking down the sidewalk in the opposite direction of Helga's car. "We've got to get the rest of these delivered or Rhonda will have our heads."

"Oh, right."

Back at the boarding house, Arnold has finally managed to open the skylight window. He slowly slides down and onto the small steps beside where his bed used to sit. He sighs sadly.

"Really didn't want to come back here," He says to himself as he takes a sad look around the room. The wallpaper has faded to an unidentifiable color and everything is gone. His bed, his desk, CDs, books, pictures - all gone. The room is completely empty.

Except for one small thing.

The journal has not been moved as far as he can tell. It's still sitting right in the middle of the room - at the heart of his old life. He'd planned to let it rot there for all eternity.

One last hope, he thinks sadly.

With a grunt he moves to the center of the room and bends down to pick it up.

And is immediately rewarded with the feel of cold steel against his neck.

"Where is it?" A man's gruff voice demands. Arnold stares at his attacker's feet with as much hatred as he can muster.

"Where's what?" He says somewhat defiantly. The gun is pressed even harder against his throat.

"I've been stuck in this smelly old building for a week now. I'm not really in the mood for games."

"Yeah, well I haven't exactly been having the best day either!" And with that Arnold whirls around and lands a hit against his attackers hand, quickly knocking the gun out the big man's grip. The grunt lets out a roar and charges forward, but Arnold lands a perfect kick right to his stomach. The grunt topples backwards, wheezing as he attempts to catch his breath. Arnold scoops up the journal and makes a mad dash for the door.

Standing outside it is another rather strong looking man.

"Dammit!" Arnold turns on his heel and scrambles back towards the stairs leading up to the skylight. The other man steps into the room and fires off a rather hasty shot towards Arnold. It misses and Arnold pulls himself up onto the roof, and runs back towards the fire escape. He whirls around to see the second grunt making his way onto the roof as well.

He slides down the ladder and runs past the window of his old room, where a dead plant is still perched on the windowsill. He manages to make it down to the next level of the fire escape when the window opens and the first grunt shoots off a volley of shots at him. He swears again and runs towards the next section of ladder.

Helga isn't going to come looking for me for another five minutes, he thinks to himself, he is royally screwed.

Just as he thinks this, a familiar-looking car turns onto his street and races towards him.

"Helga." He breathes. The first grunt is now making his way onto the fire escape as well, but Arnold is already on the ground and running. The car squeals to a halt beside him.

"GET IN!" Helga yells and he doesn't need to be told twice. More shots ring down at them, Helga screams and helps tug him into the car. His door isn't even completely shut when she slams her foot on the gas and speeds down the street.

"FUCK!" She screams, her knuckles going white against the steering wheel yet again. "Oh god, FUCK!" She puts a hand to her head and lets out a really shaky laugh. "This is… fuck."

"Helga calm down." He tries to take his own advice, but his heart is pounding in his throat and he can't seem to stop running a really shaky hand over the place where the gun had been pressed to his neck. He lets out a soft whimper without really meaning too.

"No! I'm shaking and scared and t-there's apparently a thousand people after you or something and you're not dead and I can't -" Her voice cracks and tears spill down her cheeks.

"We've got to get to PS 118." Arnold says suddenly.

"Are you crazy?" Helga demands. "No more running around Hillwood. We're getting out of here now."

He puts a hand on hers.

"I'm not changing my mind this time, Arnold."

"Then stop and let me get out there. You can keep going. Drive until you feel safe. But there's still something else I need to get." He tells her.

"I hate this." She whispers.

"Me too."

"How much time will it take? I-I just want to go."

"Thirty seconds tops. I left something there." He looks out his window as they head towards the old school. The sky has grown cloudy. "It looks like it's going to rain," He mumbles to himself.

"Another stupid book?" She says, annoyed.

"Much more important." He responds as Helga comes to a stop alongside their old Elementary School.

"Please come back soon. If I don't get out of here in the next few minutes, I'm going to explode into a billion pieces."

"Thirty seconds." He repeats and then dashes towards the gate at the back of the school. He runs onto the playground and ducks down behind some bushes. For a moment he can remember a time long ago when he had used these same bushes to hide from Ruth as he laid his Valentine onto her already large pile. Anonymous.

He pushes aside a rather large branch and reaches down to retrieve something somewhat large and draped in a big cloth. He smiles.

"La Corazon."

"Arnold!" Helga is shouting for him. He turns to see her waving frantically at him. "Move it Football Head!"

Funny, he thinks to himself, today really isn't turning out the way he'd planned. He hadn't meant to get Helga involved and once she was involved, he had planned to leave her after getting the journal. Yet, she was still with him.

He runs back to the car and ducks into the passenger side one more time.

"Here." She says suddenly, tossing a paper at him, He glances at it quickly and then looks at her.

"A party? Who for?"

"You." She smiles as her foot hits the gas. "Also, it's my turn to pick where we're going. No 'buts' about it."

He nods.

Helga and Arnold leave Hillwood behind.

* * *

**notes:** The Urban Legend was unplanned, but I love how it turned out.

As random as everything has seemed to be so far let me promise you that there IS a point to it all and that explanations WILL be coming. You just got to have some faith in me.

NEXT CHAPTER: Helga attempts to pry answers out of a rather unwilling Arnold. Also, it rains.


	6. Rain

**Chapter Six**  
(_In which it doesn't stop raining…_)

It's raining.

Helga keeps her eyes focused on the road. There's a large part of her still screaming in fear and happiness and confusion and that part of her is punching against all the walls in her mind - demanding answers. She stifles that voice the best she can and let's out a long sigh.

Arnold is sleeping.

It's a restless sort of sleep. His eyes keep twitching and he starts every now and again, before settling back against the seat. Helga keeps watching him out of the corner of her eye. She studies the up and down movement of his chest and assures herself, for the eighty-sixth time that he really is alive.

It's just that… three years ago she lost a part of herself and even before then… when he left the first time?

She stops that train of thought before it can really take off. She doesn't want to dwell. Not here. Not now. Not when Arnold is alive and well and sleeping beside her in their stolen vehicle, which, he told her before he nodded off, they would be ditching as soon as they possibly could.

There's a small, round, cloth-covered something sitting on Arnold's lap. His hands are still clutched against its sides as if it were the last light left in a pitch-black world. Between them, wedged against the cup holders is an old, faded book. His dad's journal.

Helga doesn't know very much about his parents. Only that they weren't around when Arnold was growing up. Even during their classes' misguided adventure in the jungles of San Lorenzo, he had never given away very much about them. His dad was a doctor? His mom was an archeologist? No, it was the other way around?

She shook her head as she made another left hand turn.

Anyway, even though she was clueless when it came to his parents, what she did know was that through all the time she had known Arnold, he had obviously never given up thinking that they were alive. Their little jungle adventure had taught her that much. And even before then, he always had this… wondering sort of look? Like in the school plays - at the end, he'd _always_ scan the crowd, face full of hope. And when he saw his grandparents… His face didn't fall exactly, but there was sort of this resigned look to it.

She laughs a little. Bitterly.

Why does she still remember that?

Whatever. It was years ago and all behind her now. She's twenty-five and not some sniveling kid too afraid of getting her feelings smashed to ever really come out and say what she felt. She's twenty-five and driving her undead man-boy-thing to the ends of the earth without really knowing why.

The pounding voice in her head continues.

She ought to let him sleep. God, he looks so worn out. Like he'd been running for months on end. That glimmer of hope in eyes that seemed like a permanent fixture when they were nine has been replaced with something a lot more… feral?

She shivers.

Another voice, not the loud pushy one that doesn't know when to shut up, but an entirely different one pipes up from somewhere deep inside her mind. It's barely a whisper really. Nothing but a breath of a sound, but it says something that immediately leaves her insides cold.

_He is not your Arnold._

She mentally stomps on the voice, shuts it out and glares at the road ahead of her. A wall bursts in her mind and the demanding, shrill voice is set free. She spots a sign up ahead and immediately heads for it. She slams on the brakes as she pulls into a parking spot right in front of a small roadside diner. The jerk of the car shakes Arnold out of his slumber.

"W-what?"

"Morning, princess." She teases as he looks outside. He raises an eyebrow.

"A diner? This is your great destination?" He asks her, confused.

She puts the car in park and throws the door open.

"More like a pitstop, really." She says, before slamming the door shut so that the car shudders a bit from the force. Arnold sighs and opens his door.

"Well then go do your business and hurry back. We gotta to keep going while we can."

She shakes her head and crosses her arms over her chest.

"Nope. We're taking a break. And you," She says as she moves closer to his side of the car, sneakers dragging against the pavement as she walks. "are going to tell me everything I want to know." She touches his nose with one finger and he bats it away.

"No." He says gruffly. "It's better than you don't know anything, Helga."

"So what you're saying is that it's really _you_ who is the bad guy here and helping you was a really bad idea, right? Then I better turn you in to the police…." She prods as she reaches into her pocket for a cell phone. His hand darts out to stop her. He stands up and holds her arm firmly.

"Don't." He says almost dangerously.

But she is not afraid of him.

"Then explain." She scowls up at him.

"Whatever." He finally responds as he grabs his cloth-ball and journal out of the car and carries them into the diner. Helga stifles a laugh. He looks sort of ridiculous.

She follows him inside.

* * *

They get a booth in the back. No one really seems to pay much attention to them, though the waitress keeps making offhand comments about romantic locale. To resist punching her in her stupid face, Helga distracts herself with tearing her paper place-mat into tiny pieces. Meanwhile, she wills her face to stop burning red. Arnold, for his part, either doesn't care or doesn't notice. If he's anything like he used to be, she figures it's the latter.

He has the ridiculous cloth-ball snuggled comfortably beside him and every few minutes he reaches down and pats the top of it as if it were some sort of faithful dog. Helga makes another tear in her placemat.

"Getting ammo?" He asks suddenly.

She's startled.

"What?" Completely confused, eyebrows arched. Yes, _eyebrows_, she's a grown woman, thank-you. She's learned how to use tweezers.

He motions towards the small, but growing paper pile on the table.

"Ammo. Y'know," He picks one of the small pieces up and rolls it around his fingers. "For spitballs?"

She laughs.

"You remember those?"

He smiles at her and something flutters in her stomach. She doesn't think she'll ever get tired of seeing him smile at her.

"Unfortunately. It's kind of hard to forget six straight years of spitty hair." He picks up his water and points at her. "You were sort of a mean little thing back then, y'know?"

"I was a bitch." She says bluntly. He chokes a little on his water as he laughs at that.

"Well I wasn't gonna say it, but…."

"To you especially." She says then, quiet-like. He looks at her then, really looks at her. And there's something about her that is so entirely changed that he kind of has to remind himself that it's Helga in front of him. It was easy to remember when she was shouting at him to get in the car or before that when she'd been complaining about every little thing they were doing, but this… quiet, shy thing is foreign to him. He wonders what happened to suck all the life out of her. Last he knew she was finishing up college and was, according to Gerald, supposed to be close to snagging some sort of book deal. He'd never expected her to still be sitting around Hillwood after all this time.

"You liked me." He said with a chuckle as he turned from her to gaze out the window. The rain was picking up again. "That's why you did it. I know it took awhile, but I did figure it out."

And then the fire is back.

"Ha! I _told_ you! If I hadn't confessed you'd have never ever known. Face it, footballhead - you are not the sharpest tool in the shed." With that she flicks a small piece of paper into his face. He laughs and bats it away.

"Yeah, well at least I wasn't some crazy girl stalking the boy of my dreams!" He teases as he throws a piece back at her.

"Oh really? You could have fooled me with the way you followed Gerald around like a lovesick puppy. And all while wearing that silly dress or kilt thing you used to wear! We were all waiting for the two of you to come out since preschool!" Then she picks up a handful of paper bits and chucks them straight in his face so that he gets them stuck all throughout his hair. With an annoyed huff he quickly sticks a finger in his mouth and lunges across the table, aiming for her ear.

"Don't you DARE!" She squeals as he struggles to push her arms away from shielding herself.

"It was a shirt! Not a dress! Not a kilt! A shirt!" He shouts.

"Excuse me?"

They both stop immediately, his spit-covered finger still prodding the back of her hand. The waitress blinks at them.

"I um, I have your food?" She seems to ask rather then tell. The two quickly pull apart and smile at her. Their waitress raises an eyebrow as she silently lays out their plates in front of them. Then she walks away.

Before she disappears behind the doors to the kitchen she stops, whirls back at them and sticks a finger in the air.

"Oh! The kissing rock! It's an old legend around here! So romantic." She bats her lashes at them. "Perfect for couples."

Helga raises a fist at her, her face going redder by the second.

"Get back to the kitchen you dumb twit!" She yells. Their waitress giggles and finally takes her leave.

When she's gone, Helga sits back down and puts her head in her hands. Meanwhile, Arnold is happily eating his food seemingly oblivious to everything their server has just said. Helga watches as he takes another bite of his sandwich and smiles to herself.

Some things really don't change.

* * *

The rain is slowing by the time they finish and Helga still has a universe of questions bouncing off against the inside of her mind. She'd held them back through dinner, wanting to pretend that maybe they were just two old friends meeting up to have a good time together, but the truth of the situation is too heavy to pretend away completely. There's little he could do to keep her from following him now that she's found him again, but she can't just keep stumbling along blindly.

She pushes her plate aside and rubs her elbow.

"We need to talk."

"You're not breaking up with me are you?" Arnold jokes, but he also refuses to meet her gaze. Slowly, he pushes the last bit of macaroni around his plate.

"Come on, Arnold." She says firmly, not letting up. "I've given you time. I need an explanation." He turns his head to watch as she seems to debate something within herself. Then she lays her hand on top of his. He tries to avoid it, but her gaze catches his and all he can do is look at her, blue eyes sparkling in the diner's dim lighting. "Please." She implores.

He shakes her off.

"I can't." He says softly. Then he bolts. He grabs the cloth-thing and the journal and heads straight for the door. Helga is left gaping at his retreating back.

Quickly, she digs into her pocket and pulls out a twenty-dollar bill. She hopes it's enough to cover their food and wishes that she hadn't left her purse back in her apartment. It complicates a lot of things. Then she chases after him.

He hasn't gone far. She can see him standing, his back to her, on the other side of the road. It's still raining.

She squints at him, before quickly ducking into the car, grabbing an umbrella from between the seats and heading out to where he's standing.

He doesn't say a word as she approaches and she comes to a stop about two feet behind him.

"What happened, Arnold?" She asks quietly. His shoulders sag.

"It's a long story." Is his reply.

The umbrella opens and she steps closer, shielding him from the rain.

"We've got time." Helga says as she awkwardly rests her hand on his arm. It's weird. Touching him after all these years. He looks at her then and smiles that same sort of dreamy half-smile that she remembers from childhood and a part of her breaks and a part of her heals.

And then Arnold tells Helga his story.

* * *

**notes:** I had fun with this chapter. Thanks for all the awesome feedback guys!

NEXT CHAPTER: Arnold tells Helga his story. (doi!)


	7. Story

**Chapter Seven**  
(_In which Arnold tells his story…_)

He doesn't want to start at the beginning.

It's too far back. Too tied up in roots and vines and faces he can't remember. Let's just leave it at - his parents left and didn't come back. He grew up.

(he went to find them once. twice. third time's the charm.)

He stopped being happy somewhere around age ten. Something stinking of failure and blood began beating in his chest and he stopped breathing right. Every thing came out wrong. He hadn't found _anything_ in the jungle. Nothing but mud and stone and a growing sense of loneliness.

(there was a little bit of light. soft hand in his. blue eyes. but it wasn't what he'd been looking for. and it wasn't enough.)

He left San Lorenzo empty-handed (save for the warm hand in his. a paradox, see?) and tried to force down the despair rising up and down in his stomach. He went home and didn't cry. Didn't dream.

* * *

Yet the next year was nothing but dreams. Blue eyes was always at his side and sometimes Gerald would grip his shoulders too tight and _shake_, but Arnold never woke up.

"Where are you, man?" His once best-friend had asked.

Arnold had only laughed.

* * *

Fifteen and he was sitting at the table. His grandparents stared at him sadly.

"Arnold…."

"I'm done." He wouldn't look at them. "Everything here's got a part of them in it. Every day I look at the door and think maybe they'll be back. They aren't coming back. Are they?"

His grandfather laid his hand a top Arnold's.

"No. I don't think they are, Short-man." So sad. So worried.

"I can't stay here anymore." He told them again. "I can't. The hope keeps eating away at me and it never works. I went looking for them. I found nothing. As far as I know I was born an orphan. They never existed at all." He looked up. "I'm done searching for ghosts. I'm fifteen."

A month later they had moved far from Hillwood.

(blue eyes never came to say good-bye. he didn't notice.)

* * *

***...***

* * *

Arnold lets out a long breath and begins leading Helga down a path in the woods. He's not sure where it goes, but he really doesn't care.

"I'm not really how to start this." He admits.

"The beginning?" She offers.

"Too far back. It began when my parents disappeared. But you already knew that, right? You were there in the jungle with me the first time."

"First time? You went back?" She asks. He nods. She sighs. "How about starting with after you moved. I haven't heard from you since we were fifteen." Her shoes slide forward on the stone path and she watches as a bunch of small rocks go skittering off ahead of them. She tries to see where each one of them lands, but there's too many.

"Not much to tell." He says. He's staring upwards at the cloudy sky, peeking out from underneath the umbrella. He wonders if the rain will be letting up anytime soon. "We moved south. It was really dry, really flat. I went through high school. Got okay grades, dated a few pretty girls and just… moved on? I don't know. It wasn't a spectacular life, but I was content. When I was there I stopped thinking about my parents as much. It helped, I think."

"You don't regret it at all?" She wonders and he immediately shakes his head.

"Hillwood was killing me."

"I can understand that." She agrees, thinking about her own life. Twenty-five and going nowhere. Twenty-five and miserable. "But we're still not getting anywhere, Hair Boy. How did you get here?" She gestures to the woods around them. "And what's with the whole being chased by faceless villains thing?"

He stops.

"I told you. It's hard to know where to begin." The small ball of cloth is clutched tightly against his chest and he lays his head down on it. The bundle against his cheek is warm. A nice contrast to the cool air and the rain that still manages to catch on his arms from time to time.

"Ugh." She responds, turning from him to cross her arms over her chest. "You're being so difficult." The sudden jerk of her arm causes a few droplets of water to hit against her face and then he remembers.

"The rain."

"Huh?" Arnold lifts his head and stares upwards again.

"I think I know where to start." He says finally. She rolls her eyes at him, but doesn't move. She's ready to hear it.

"It started when my grandpa died…."

* * *

***...***

* * *

It doesn't rain.

The ceremony goes by in a blur. Far less people come to the funeral than he'd have thought. Then again, he hadn't told very many people. No one from Hillwood knew yet or at least they hadn't heard it from him.

Grandma died a little over a year ago. That had stung, but this….

This is so much worse.

With his grandfather's death comes the unrelenting truth to pound once again at all the sore places in his mind.

Arnold Shortman is an orphan.

Its like someone has taken almost seven years of his heart's healing and ripped it to shreds. He'd been doing so well! He was about to finish up college, get a real job and maybe even move in with Marci like he had said he would. He'd left his parents and Hillwood and terrible jungles behind him. He was fine.

It's funny how quickly everything can be turned on its head.

The old ache rises up in him. The dream, the painfully miserable hope claws at his insides as the sun rises higher in the sky. Goddamit, where is the rain? How can the universe smile on this day? Where is the thunder and the lightning and the delicate strands of his own sadness made real?

He is an orphan.

And worse than that.

He is alone.

Arnold leaves then. He doesn't look back.

* * *

The plane isn't meant to fly in these conditions, but Arnold doesn't care.

A flash of lightning brightens the sky over the jungles of San Lorenzo as the rain pounds against the front of the plane. Arnold is blinded for just a second, but it's enough. He hits the top of a tree and the plane shakes under his grip.

He goes down.

* * *

He crawls out of the wreckage.

* * *

The plane burns well into the next morning.

* * *

They call him Phil. He wonders what becomes of Arnold. He decides that he doesn't care.

Work is scarce here. When he's offered a job lifting crates, he takes it without even a single question about the contents of said crates. Better that he doesn't know, he figures.

* * *

Years tick by. Phil makes friends. He buys a small hut. He doesn't need much to get by anyway. It's just him.

A few girls look his way, but he doesn't really pay attention. He heads to work and lifts crate after crate after crate. He survives.

He doesn't live.

* * *

There's a very small bar in town. He goes down with some of the guys every Tuesday. He laughs and drinks and drinks and laughs and stares at his reflection in the bottom of his glass and _wonders_.

_Where did Arnold go?_

A smelly man stumbles into the bar one night. His hair is sticking up in awkward places, a few patches are missing completely. He smells like urine and vomit.

A few of the men start taunting him. Telling him to get lost. That he's disgusting and a waste of space. Phil watches, but doesn't say anything. He takes another shot and stares down into the dark, murky depths of his alcohol soaked mirror self again.

_Where did Arnold go?_

One of the larger men suddenly stands up and kicks the stinky guy in the ribcage. He lets out of grunt of pain and curls into a ball on the floor.

The boy in the bottom of his glass won't stop staring at Phil.

The large man is about to land another kick, when Phil suddenly stands up. He turns around, walks over to the crumpled man and then leans down beside him. Slowly, Phil helps him up. The large guy watches all of this in silence for a moment.

"He's a waste, Phil. Just toss 'im out and then come back, ya?"

Phil shakes his head.

"Fuck off, Buzz."

The broken man leans on Phil for support as they leave the bar. Outside, the sun is setting on the tiny town.

"Where do you live?" Phil asks. The other man says nothing. Phil grunts. "Hey, I said where do you live?"

"…I'm Ward." Is the response he gets.

"That's nice, but not very helpful." Phil complains, struggling under Ward's weight.

"T-thank you. For helping me." Ward says. "I don't have a home."

Phil laughs.

"Guess I shouldn't be surprised at that, huh? That sort of complicates things though. I don't really have the room for you." Or the want for him, Phil thinks to himself. God, he smells.

"Who are you?"

"Phil." He answers a little too quickly. Scared of what might have come out instead. Helping this man means nothing. He's not Arnold anymore. He's not. Arnold's gone and dead and dead and gone and… and….

"Thank you Phil. If you could just help me to the river, I'll sleep beside it tonight." Ward says and Phil nods.

"Maybe you could bathe in it too?" Phil offers, which 'causes Ward to laugh. They walk in silence all the way down to the side of the river. After that, Phil gently helps lower Ward to the ground.

"Thank you. Guess I won't be attempting to get into a bar again soon, eh?"

"They aren't bad guys, just… unruly. And you sort of stink pretty bad and look pretty ugly at the moment. It kind of upsets the stomach." Phil tells him.

"Haha, can't argue with that." Ward laughs as he leans back against the trunk of a tree. "Guess I'll have to find some other way to entertain myself."

Phil smiles and sits down beside him.

"You could always try watching the clouds." He says, looking up.

"Clouds?" Ward raises an eyebrow.

"Yeah," Phil says, pointing up. "Like that one right there. Doesn't it look like a sailboat - a schooner? No, a clipper!" He says with a laugh. Phil turns to look at Ward, but the other man's eyes have gone wide. Not exactly fearful, but still shook up. "Ward? You okay?"

Ward's hand darts out and he wraps his fingers firmly around Phil's forearm, pulling him closer.

"Miles? No… _Arnold_?" Phil's eyes widen as Ward's grip tightens.

"How do you know who I am - who my dad was?!" He demands.

Unexpectedly, Ward pulls back his arm fast and then jumps up. Next thing Phil knows, the older man is tearing through the trees, running fast away from the village - away from Phil. Phil is paralyzed for a second, before jumping up and racing after the other man, but by then it's too late.

Ward has disappeared.

* * *

Phil stays beside the river well into the night. The moon lights up the water and his reflection doesn't look away no matter how badly he wishes it would.

Arnold stares at him from the water below and Phil wonders if maybe Arnold drowned. Perhaps he had managed to somehow crawl out of the wreckage of the burning plane and his lonely past just in time to let the water carry him down, down, down forever.

Phil wonders.

_Where did Arnold go?_

He wants to find out.

He takes a breath.

And jumps.

**Down.**

Down.

....down.

* * *

A shadow pulls him back to the surface and Arnold opens his eyes. The night sky stares back at him.

He yells for his father and his mother and his grandparents and himself. He can't remember who's alive and who's dead anymore.

The shadow helps him back to his hut before disappearing. Arnold never thinks to ask for the shadow's name.

* * *

He wakes up in the middle of the night. Ward is standing over him, a small bundle of cloth wrapped tightly in his arms. He holds it as gently as one would a baby.

"La Corazon." He whispers as silent as the dark. "Don't look at it." He tells Arnold as he hands the bundle over. Arnold takes the gift and wraps his fingers around it, holding it close to his chest.

"I don't understand." Arnold says, eyes pleading. Ward smiles and Arnold recoils at the broken, yellow teeth in the old man's mouth.

"I think this might help too." Ward says, thrusting a newspaper clipping into Arnold's hands. Arnold's eyes cross as he tries to read it in the dark. He rubs the palm of his hand against his tired eyes and blinks a couple times, before refocusing on the article. "Dr. Wash… collector of… green eyes?... daughter's debutante ball on the 30th?" He looks up to find Ward looking at him closely. "I'm confused, Ward. What is all of this?"

"There isn't much time, Arnold. You have to go home. The Green Eyes are counting on you." He places his hands on Arnold's shoulders and looks him straight in the eye. "Your parent's are counting on you. I can't keep La Corazon any longer. It's yours." His eyes dart to the side as something rumbles outside. "Get back here as soon as you can. I'll be waiting at the temple." With that, Ward turns and ducks out of the door. Before he leaves he shoots Arnold one last look. "You must leave quickly, Arnold. La Sombra has eyes everywhere." And then he's gone.

There's a small sound beating against the roof of his hut and it's then Arnold realizes that it's raining.

He hugs the small bundle close to him and buries his face in it.

He cries for the first time in sixteen years.

* * *

Nothing happens until after his plane touches down. He's stopped at a corner store, looking at the soft drinks when a cold hand wraps around the back of the neck.

"I think you have something that doesn't belong to you."

His grip on La Corazon tightens.

"I don't know what you're talking about." He says softly before whirling around and kicking the man square in the stomach. The large man flies back into an aisle of candy bars. Arnold runs.

* * *

And he doesn't stop running.

* * *

But they keep finding him.

* * *

Wolfgang frowns at him as Arnold rakes a hand through his unwashed hair.

"Dude, you need a bath."

The large Mack Truck is slowly making its way back towards Hillwood. Arnold tries to focus on his plan, but the thing is… he doesn't really have one. Get to Hillwood seems to be good enough for now. It was his hometown and the map of San Lorenzo was supposedly still sitting pretty in his old bedroom. If he could get that and then somehow get to the Wash guy's house and then go back to San Lorenzo with La Corazon, maybe… somehow….

Something had to happen, right?

Running into Wolfgang had been a surprisingly lucky coincidence. The old bully had grown up. The guy was still mostly an asshole, but also oddly helpful. He'd been quick to offer Arnold a ride, which Arnold took. He still wasn't sure if Wolfgang knew who he was though.

"Yeah…" Is his eloquent response.

Wolfgang watches him out of the corner of his eye as they enter the city limits. Arnold lifts his head to stare outside, suddenly overcome with memories.

"Welcome back, you fourth grade loser." Wolfgang says.

Arnold smiles.

"Thanks, you big fifth grade jerk."

* * *

Gunshots. The streets are empty and something is chasing him.

He's managed to hide La Corazon for the time being. He hopes that he can get back to it before recess lets out. If any of the kids find it….

He's slowing down. Three weeks of running on empty will do that to a person. He can't remember the last time he ate. Two days ago maybe? And he hasn't had a full night's sleep in who knows how long.

They're going to get to him and they're going to kill him and take La Corazon and he's fighting for nothing. His parents are dead and he needs to get over it. He needs to move on.

He turns down an alley and runs straight to the other side. Turns left to another street. Everything starts to blur together.

The shots seemed to have stopped. He ducks down on someone's stoop for a moment. Breathing hard. He stands up, rests his forehead against the door. Just for a second. Just long enough to catch his breath before he runs for it again.

The door opens.

Blue eyes.

"Helga."

And then the world goes black.  


* * *

***...***

* * *

The rain has stopped.

Arnold stands a little bit in front of her, fingers still tugging at the fabric covering La Corazon. Or what a crazed man claimed to be La Corazon. She doesn't really understand what it even is exactly, only that Arnold seems to imagine that it's a key of some sort. The key to his parents.

"It sounds… crazy." She says. "We all thought you died in that plane crash three years ago. And you just… changed your name and blended in?"

"I wasn't the only one there with a murky past." He whispers. "There were a lot of people working with me who just wanted to… start over, I guess." It's not raining anymore, but his cheeks are wet. Helga shuts the umbrella and takes a step towards him.

"So you're going to save your parents." It's not a question. "One more jungle adventure, huh?"

"I think so. But there's still one more thing that I need." He pulls a slightly damp, crumpled news clipping from his pocket and hands it to her. "The Green Eyes' Book of Healing. At least that's what Ward implied I needed."

She looked over the paper quickly.

"None of this explains why you're a target now. Are you sure you didn't piss off anyone important?"

"La Corazon is supposed to be a really rare, really sacred stone. I can only imagine how much it's worth. And… well according to Grandpa there's at least one person who has been trying to get his hands on it since before I was even born."

"Oh yeah, who's that?" She asks as they start heading back the way they came. The sun is beginning to set and she wants to gets out of here as soon as possible. She has the weirdest inkling that they're being watched.

"La Sombra." Arnold whispers, following her. "A river pirate."

"Yeah, well. We're pretty far from any rivers, bucko. Let's just get back to the car and - Oh no." She stops suddenly, causing Arnold to run into her back.

"What's wrong?" He asks and then he looks up.

Two police cars are sitting beside their stolen vehicle. There's a cop searching the car and two others standing just inside the doorway talking to, what looks to be, their waitress.

"Oh no." Arnold echoes.

"Well if it isn't you again. This just doesn't seem to be a good day for me, huh?" Comes a voice from behind them. They both turn back to find Wolfgang coming up the path behind them, zipping up the fly of his pants. "Just made a little pit stop." He says as he winks at Helga. "How you doin' Blondie? I haven't talked to you since you sucker punched me in the tenth grade." He says while Helga just scowls, but Arnold looks relieved.

"Could I ask you to do me another favor?" He asks, Wolfgang looks him up and down.

"You bathed since I saw you this morning?"

"No."

Wolfgang shakes his head.

"Then no can do. You stank up the whole front of my truck." He says as he pushes past them, but Helga grabs a hold of his arm. "C'mon Blondie, I'm flattered, but you really aren't my type."

"Ugh, asshole." She complains as she shoves her fist in front of his face. "Listen up, unless you want a black eye to match the one I gave you back in ninth grade you'd better let us tag along with you. I'm not playing, Wolfgang." She threatens.

He laughs.

"You're pretty hot when you get all riled up." Helga goes to lunge at him, but Arnold holds her back.

"Helga, stop!"

Wolfgang smirks at the two of them.

"All right, you can tag along for a little bit. I'm headed up around Pleasantville. We should get there in about three hours."

"No need." Helga says through clenched teeth. "Our stop is only about thirty minutes up the road." She elbows Arnold off of her and starts towards the truck, ducking behind it once she gets there. "And can we hurry?"

Wolfgang looks at him.

"I'm not even gonna ask what's going on with you two freaks. I already know it's nothing good. Oh yeah, and you're gonna have to chill in the back of the truck this time. I wasn't lying about you stinking up my front seats before." And then he starts towards his truck.

Arnold stands still for a moment, breathing in the lingering scent of rain on the trees. His journey is starting up again. His reprieve is at an end.

Arnold steps forward.

* * *

**notes:** If you found any parts of the flashback too vague and unclear, feel free to ask questions. I'll try to clarify what I can, but obviously I can't answer everything without spoiling the story.

NEXT CHAPTER: Wolfgang and Helga chat and our heroes reach their next destination.


	8. Ride

**Chapter Eight**  
_(In which Helga really doesn't like Wolfgang…)_

"I can't believe you're actually making him stay back there." Helga says as she grumpily crosses her arms over her chest. "One too-sharp turn and he'll be crushed by all those boxes. You've done some stupid and cruel things, Wolfgang, but I would think you'd know better than this."

Wolfgang laughs at her.

"Oh come on, Pataki. He's not going to die back there. And besides," he informs her haughtily, "I'm an excellent driver." With that he takes yet another turn just a bit too quickly and Helga can swear that she hears a loud thud from the back trailer. She glares at Wolfgang, who only laughs again. "You're such a pain. Look, I'm delivering a shipment of _pillows_. I think you're boyfriend will be just fine back there. And don't tell me you weren't getting sick from that rank stench of his?"

Helga bites her lip.

"He doesn't smell _that_ bad." She mutters darkly as a blush spreads across her pale cheeks. Wolfgang roars with laughter.

"Oh man, I bet you're just as glad as I am to be away from him for a bit. Come on, admit it! Dude smells like he's been basting in his own juices for weeks. And besides," He glances over at Helga, "this gives us some time to get caught up."

"Ugh." She groans and turns away from him. "You seem to be mistaking me with someone who actually liked you. I could care less about finding out what you've been up to since high school. Besides, like you said, we haven't spoken since I punched you back in ninth grade. Why start now?"

He turns to her and actually looks sort of… upset? Definitely put off.

"Well, I guess if you'd rather just sit in silence for thirty minutes we could do that. I just thought maybe we'd have gotten to a point in our lives where we could look past the bullshit that comes with being a stupid teenager. I mean, I'll be the first to admit that I was a gigantic asshole as a kid, but then again, who wasn't?" He sighs and lifts his cap up to run his fingers through his hair. "Shit."

"Arnold" Helga responds quietly. Wolfgang glances towards her.

"Huh?"

"Arnold wasn't an asshole. He _always_ gave you the benefit of the doubt and yet you still think it's okay to just stick him in the back of your truck like some sort of lower life form. That's why I don't want to talk to you, Wolfgang. You haven't grown." Helga tells him matter-of-factly.

"And you have?" He says shortly. "You're still threatening to beat me up and acting like you're better than me. Well, I didn't see you offering to sit in the back with him, y'know? You and me are still fucked up in our own special ways, but at least this time you managed to keep your temper long enough to hold a conversation with me and at least I haven't put your boyfriend in a headlock and told him to go fuck himself yet. I'm giving the two of you a ride. I'm helping. You gonna tell me that's not a step in the right direction?"

"I guess, it's something," She mutters and still refuses to look at him.

"Damn, if I'd known you were going to be such a beautiful ball of sunshine, I'd have made you sit in the back and put up with Stinky McFootball smelling up the joint instead. Although, he wasn't that much fun either - lots of silence, some garbled things he said too quiet for me to hear, not to mention some weirdly cryptic responses to basic questions. Is he always like that?"

"I don't think that's any of your business." She says.

He sighs and adjusts his hands on the wheel.

"Okay. I can't take this. What the hell did I do to make you so angry with me? And don't tell me it's because I made your Footballface sit in the back, because I know that's not it. So could you please just enlighten me as to what I did that was so terrible, Blond-?"

"My name isn't Blondie!" Helga interrupts, rage coursing through her as she clenches her fists into tight balls and whirls on Wolfgang, "It's Helga G. Pataki and he's not _my_ Footballface OR my boyfriend and you can stop insinuating that he is _right fucking now_ and do you even remember _WHY_ I punched the shit out of you in ninth grade?" She demands, leaning towards him and wanting nothing more than to be able to smash her fist into his face for being so stupid. Sadly, doing so would almost surely end in her untimely death and like hell if she's going to die here, beside this jackass.

"Shit." Wolfgang breathes, blinking at her stupidly. "Hell. I'd forgotten how angry you could get."

"Oh _fuck you_." Helga says flipping him off.

"Oh come on." He responds, wrapping his fingers around her hand. She shoots him a look filled with disgust, and he has to hold back a laugh. This, of course, causes her to get even angrier. "I'm sorry, okay?" He says, still holding tight to her fist. "You're right, I have no idea what I did in tenth grade to deserve a beating. Pretty sure I blocked it out, as it was pretty embarrassing for me. Y'know, getting decked by a girl and all." Helga let's out an angry huff and pulls back as if she's about to deck him again, but he puts up a hand in front of his face in defeat. "I don't mean it like that, okay? I know that girls are tough cookies and all that, but damn it, Pataki. You looked like you weighed about 100 pounds soaking wet in ninth grade - you were more stick than human and then out of nowhere you completely and totally wiped the floor with me. You gotta admit that it didn't really help my bully reputation, right? Also, from the little that I do remember, me getting punched out was the result of asking you out, wasn't it?"

She scowls.

"No, you getting the shit beat out of you was the result of asking me out in this smug, douchebag tone that ended with you calling me goddamn _Blondie_ and _winking_ at me as if you had just offered me the prize of the century! And from what I've seen so far in this ride, you haven't changed at all. You gave us a ride, okay? And I'm grateful for it, but we aren't friends and riding with you isn't some grand privilege and to be completely honest, I don't trust you as far as I can throw you and _Tubby_," she shouts as she pokes a finger against Wolfgang's small beer gut, "That ain't very far at all."

"Well," Wolfgang says with a smirk as he leans back, "Now we're getting somewhere."

"Forget it. Just drive." She fumes and turns back to face the windshield, arms crossed tightly over her chest. "Dumbass."

"For what it's worth, I'm sorry I was such a smug asshole and that I still am. I won't deny that I can be something of a dick. But I didn't offer you two a ride just to hold it over your head." He tells her.

"Then why did you?" She asks, looking at him out of the corner of her eye. A cold, frightened feeling rushes over her as she watches him and she slowly moves her right hand down the side of her seat, fingers quietly, but desperately searching for something - _anything_ that help her in case it turns out that Wolfgang is not on her side at all.

"Arnold." Wolfgang says with a small smile.

She pauses.

"What?"

"Look, I'm not saying he really ever did much for me. I didn't really need him, y'know? But I saw what he did for others and I saw how he changed that neighborhood." He rakes a hand through his hair again. "He helped Edmund get a date once, I remember. Haha, that was classic. I don't know, I mean, back then everyone was always getting themselves into trouble and that kid, Arnold, he was the one that got everyone back out. It didn't matter _who_ it was that needed the help either."

"That doesn't make any sense." Helga says, no longer frightened, just confused. "You hated Arnold."

Wolfgang just laughs and waves a hand at Helga.

"What the hell are you talking about?" He asks, between chuckles.

Fed up, she throws her arms in the air and lets out an angry huff.

"What the hell are _you_ talking about? You made our lives hell! You said it yourself that you used to be a total asshole to us. Wolfgang, you once gave me a black eye just because I got fed up with listening to you. Our grades were constantly warring with one another - and you and Arnold were the ringleaders in that feud! And he even beat you now and then, if you'll recall. So why on earth would you want to help someone like that?" She demands.

"Well, yeah, we fought. And yeah, sometimes I pounded on the dork and it sure as hell pissed me off when he managed to win one of our stupid little games, but I never hated him. It was more like… he was an annoying little brother or something. I meant what I said about not needing his help back then, but he still gave me something, y'know? He gave me a challenge." Wolfgang leans back in his chair and smiles, "He was a loser and a stupid kid, but I liked him. Not that you should go spreading that around, but that's how it is. I've always respected him for the things he's done and if I can help by just giving him a lift then, well, that's what I'll do, I guess." He stops and glances over at her, a sly smirk spreading across his face, "Seeing you again was just an added bonus."

She punches him in the arm in response. He lets out a sharp yell and turns his eyes back on the road.

"Damn, you're still a mean little thing."

"Yeah, I am." She states.

"Good," He tells her. "You wouldn't really be you without that angry streak."

She sticks her tongue out at him, but settles back into her seat. She still doesn't really like him and she's still not sure she trusts him, but she finds that she doesn't totally hate riding with him. It's been a long time since she'd put up such a fight against what someone else was telling her. It feels… good.

"Hey," She says suddenly, pointing towards a light looming a few blocks ahead. "Turn left at that light up there."

"You got it." He responds.

They drive on, she asks him about Edmund and he gets her talking about the millions of stories that she had originally planned on writing. Eventually they come to a stop in front of a large development of what appear to be brand new houses.

"So this is it then?" Wolfgang asks.

"Yup."

"You sure you don't want me to drop you off right out front of your destination? I mean, it's not a big deal."

"No, Arnold and I will be able to walk from here. It's just down the road a little ways."

He looks at her.

"You don't want me to know where you're going." He says.

"No. Sorry. It's not that I don't trust you, but-"

"Haha, of course it's that you don't trust me. But that's okay," He opens his door and climbs down, poking his head back in to look at her. "I never really gave you much of a reason to believe in me, huh?"

She follows him out of the front of the truck, to the back doors. Wolfgang unlocks the back trailer and then rests his hand on the door for a moment.

"Thank you." Helga says suddenly. "For the ride."

He smiles.

"Thanks for the company, Helga G. Pataki."

With that he wrenches open the doors. At first nothing seems to be moving and a flurry of panic rises in Helga's chest, but then a box in the back tips on it's side and Arnold pokes his oddly shaped head into view.

"You're a terrible driver." He tells Wolfgang as he stumbles forward, looking completely disoriented. "I almost threw up in one of the boxes out of spite."

Helga laughs.

"You totally should have. It would serve him right for sticking you back here." Arnold smiles at her and bends down to crawl off the edge of the truck. Helga and Wolfgang raise their arms up to help him down. "Though now that I've been without you for awhile, I have to admit that you really do smell awful." Arnold shoots her an annoyed look, but seems to be aware that she's still completely correct.

"Thanks a lot, Helga."

"Told ya." Wolfgang teases, "I told ya it was a good idea to stick him in the trunk. Can you imagine us all crammed into the front with him smelling the way he does? No thank you."

They lead Arnold to the curb and set him down in the grass. He leans his head forward and takes deep breaths.

"God, my legs feel like jello. Y'know, I have never been motion sick before. Was it really necessary to make all of those turns?" Arnold complains. Helga sits down beside him in the grass and puts a hand on his back.

"Sorry." She says.

"I'm not." Wolfgang laughs. "I'm just trying to build your character a bit. Toughen you up. You were always so stupidly soft."

"Yeah, yeah." Says Arnold.

"Anyway, we still got a little further to go, Footballhead. We'll be making the rest of the trip on foot. In case you've forgotten, our driver is the asshole who used to find pleasure in beating the shit out of our classmates. Not a very likeable guy." She taunts while looking directly at Wolfgang.

"Yeah, well, fuck you too Pataki."

"All right. I'm okay." Arnold says as he begins rising to his feet. He turns to Wolfgang and holds out a hand. Wolfgang looks at it for a moment, before taking hold of it. The two men shake. "Thanks for everything, Wolfgang. You're okay."

"No problem, loser. Just promise me you'll take a goddamn bath soon. For Pataki's sake."

"I'll try." Arnold agrees.

Wolfgang turns to Helga, who raises an eyebrow at him.

"What? I'm not thanking you again."

Wolfgang says nothing, but steps closer to her until his face is only inches from hers. Helga takes a half step back, not really sure what to do.

"What the hell?" She says as Wolfgang reaches a hand up towards her face. He brushes a thumb against her cheek, causing her to inhale sharply. His eyes are a surprising shade of blue and she feels just the slightest bit dizzy. He leans his face in a little closer and smiles smugly.

"Try not to miss me too much, Blondie." And with that he turns and heads back towards his truck.

Helga doesn't move for a few seconds, just stands there gaping at his back.

Slowly she regains herself, her eyebrows furrow into a scowl and her fists clench. She begins heading after Wolfgang, thinking about how satisfying it would be to land one good punch on the smug bastard's face, but Arnold grabs her arm.

"Helga."

"You're such an asshole, Wolfgang! If you ever try that stunt again you're a dead man, you hear?! DEAD."

"Helga, come on." Arnold says, tugging on her hand. "Forget about him. Let's just go."

Helga turns to follow, still fuming. She hears the truck start somewhere behind her and listens as it drives away. Her cheeks are burning and she still hasn't managed to unclench her fists.

"That bastard acted like he was going to kiss me! Did you _see _that?! Who the hell does he think he is, getting that close to me?! Can you believe the nerve?"

"Honestly, Helga." Arnold says quietly, still pulling her forward. "It didn't really look like you would have minded all that much."

This quiets Helga considerably. Her arm goes limp in her hand and when he looks back at her, she's refusing to look at him.

"Oh. What do you know?" She says quietly, her eyebrows are furrowed, but she doesn't look angry. Just sort of embarrassed. She seems to notice that he's still looking at her and tugs her arm out of his grip. She then stares straight at him as if daring him to say something that would piss her off more; he doesn't. "Anyway, you don't even know where we're going. I should be leading." With that she suddenly speeds up, until she's walking ahead of him.

They walk in silence down the street, passing a slew of really expensive looking houses. Arnold knows better than to ask where they're going. It seems like Helga's determined not to talk to him.

"Here." She says suddenly, stopping in front of a seemingly random house. They spend a few seconds standing in front of it, admiring the build of it. It's a little smaller than some of the other houses, but still fairly lavish. The grass is just beginning to grow out front, so the lawn is mostly dirt. There's something warm about it - a familiarity that he can't quite pick out.

"It's… really pretty." He says.

"Yeah, they only moved in two weeks ago. I haven't had a chance to come see it yet. Been working too much." She tells him.

They head up the driveway and take a small stone pathway to the door. They stop for a moment on the front step.

"Let me do the talking, okay?" Helga tells Arnold. "It might make it easier if you don't say much in the beginning."

"Helga." He whispers, his hand brushing against her arm, as they stand side-by-side. "Whose house _is_ this?"

She says nothing, just smiles at him. Then she reaches a hand forward to knock on the door.

Arnold listens as soft footsteps slowly make their way closer to the door.

The door slowly opens to reveal an obviously pregnant Phoebe Hyerdahl standing on the other side.

"Oh." Phoebe says softly as she takes in the image of both Helga G. Pataki and Arnold Shortman standing on her front step. "My legs."

Helga and Arnold reach forward to help as Phoebe's legs seem to buckle underneath her. She doesn't faint completely, but he face is twisted up in shock and Helga and Arnold struggle to help keep her upright.

Arnold grunts as they slowly lead Phoebe to a small sofa in the middle of the room.

"Does your face always have this affect on people?" He asks smartly.

Helga punches his arm in response.

* * *

**notes:** Sorry for the huge hiatus. Summer sucks away a lot of my creativity and I really just had a tough time writing Helga and Wolfgang together.

NEXT CHAPTER: Our heroes find refuge with some old friends and there are some things that need to be discussed.


	9. Reunion

**Chapter Nine**  
_(In which best friends reunite and it is awesome...)_

"You okay, Pheebs? Do you need anything? Water? A pillow?" Arnold hangs back as Helga flits about her best friend. It's been ten years since he's seen Phoebe and he'd never really been all that close to her anyway. So it doesn't really seem like his place to interrupt.

"I'm fine, Helga! Really, you can stop worrying now." Phoebe says with a wave of her hand. "I'm just a little… surprised."

"I know I didn't warn you that I was coming over and I'm sorry for dropping this 'Arnold's alive!' thing on you without warning. It's all my fault, I didn't think." Helga walks over to the sink and pours her friend a glass of water, despite Phoebe's protests. "I'm sorry, Pheebs." She hands her best friend the glass and kneels down next to her. "I was just looking for a level head to talk to."

"Oh, it's okay. It's just… I've only just got off the phone with your sister and-"

"Olga?" Helga cuts in. "Why is Olga calling _you_?"

Instead of answering Phoebe looks down at her hands resting on her protruding stomach. There's a few seconds pause as Arnold and Helga watch her slowly breathe in and out.

"Phoebe, are you - " Helga starts, beginning to worry. Phoebe cuts her off.

"There _is_ something that I need." Phoebe says.

Helga stares at her friend, trying to read the meaning behind Phoebe's actions, but Phoebe's face gives nothing away.

"Sure, Pheebs." Helga says softly. "Name it."

"I need you to hand me the phone so that I can call Gerald. I-I'm not sure how to handle all of this and I just…" Phoebe's voice cracks, "Please."

Helga nods. Arnold's propped himself up in some dark corner by this point and watches half-heartedly as Phoebe points Helga in the direction of the wall-phone.

Something is stirring inside of him, something brought on by the mere mention of his old best friends name. It has been years since he's seen or heard from any of the old gang. He's always felt somewhat guilty about not keeping in touch with everyone, but he feels the worst about growing out of touch with Gerald. They were best friends after all and that should count for something.

And now here he is, in Gerald's brand new house, watching Helga chat up Gerald's wife who is pregnant with Gerald's baby and Arnold can't help but feel that everything has become somewhat surreal. It's as if he's stepped into some other universe in which he'd never left Hillwood. A universe in which he grew up and stayed connected and was able to leave San Lorenzo and his parents and all the pain behind.

He tries not to dwell on the could-have-beens. Instead he turns his attention back to Helga and Phoebe.

The phone in Phoebe's hand is shaking and Helga has to help her hold it steady.

"Phoebe, if there's something really wrong you need to tell me so that we can help and-" Helga whispers, but Phoebe silences her by placing a hand over the blonde's mouth. Helga rolls her eyes as her friend speaks up.

"H-hi honey!" A pause. "Well, I know I told you I didn't need you to come home, b-but -" She glances towards Helga and then Arnold before speaking. "The situation has changed. So could you-?" She lets out a small sigh. "I'll explain more when you get here, but I just… I can't do this alone right now and I think." She looks at Arnold again. "I don't think you're going to want to miss this anyway."

Arnold turns away.

"Thank you so much, Gerald." Another slight pause and Phoebe's voice grows softer still. "I love you too."

And that's it.

"I guess Geraldo is going to be joining us then, huh?" Helga sighs as she takes the phone out of Phoebe's grasp and goes to hang it up. "Just wonderful." She says, voice dripping with sarcasm. Phoebe shoots her a stern look, which Helga simply ignores. "Anyway, do you think you could explain what the 'situation' is and possibly shed some insight on why you've been in touch with my sister?"

"You really don't know?" Phoebe asks, looking back and forth between Arnold and Helga. "Neither of you?"

"C'mon Pheebs, just tell us already." Helga crosses her arms over her chest.

"Helga," Phoebe says gently, sinking even deeper into the couch cushions. "You've been kidnapped."

* * *

"You know, you didn't have to let him shower. He's probably going to contaminate your brand new bathroom with all the layers of grime he must have accumulated." Helga fidgets on the end of Phoebe's bed, while Phoebe herself rummages through a large closet. Helga eyes her friend, "You sure you don't need any help, Pheebs?"

"Oh, stop fawning over me. I'm only six months along. Perfectly capable of digging through a closet on my own." Phoebe replies.

"You almost fainted earlier." Helga frets.

"Oh, hardly. I was just surprised is all. I was already a wreck, worrying about what on earth had happened to you. Your sister calling every five minutes to panic and ask if I'd heard from you since she'd last called didn't help matters. And then, I finally managed to figure out a way to block her calls and get a moment's peace when I get a knock on my door. I go to open it only to find a very not-kidnapped you next to someone I thought died _years_ ago. I think I deserved to have a moment's weakness." Phoebe says. With a great tug she manages to unearth what appears to be an old duffel bag. "Here it is."

"You can't be serious?" Helga raises an eyebrow at the bag. "You kept that?"

"It's all a little out of date, but at least everything will be clean." Phoebe tosses the bag towards her and she catches it in one sweep of her arms. "You can shower after Arnold is done."

"I can't believe you kept my duffel bag of clothes all these years. We haven't had an impromptu sleepover sparked by my family being annoying in… forever. Not since high school I don't think." She unzips the top of the bag and reaches in a hand to pull up a faded pair of jeans. "Why didn't you throw it out?"

Phoebe sits down beside her and helps tug various articles of clothing out of the bag.

"I couldn't do that. I mean, what would happen if you ever showed up at my door out of the blue one day accompanied by a suppose-to-be-dead man and were in need of a change clothes and some help? You'd be stuck wearing Gerald's clothes, because we both know you'd never be able to fit in mine."

"Hey!" Helga says, "You calling me fat, Phoebe?"

"Huge."

"God, you are _the worst_ best friend. I should have fought harder to win Nadine from Rhonda when you bumped up two grades back in grade school. _Nadine_ would never be so mean to me."

Phoebe shrugs. "Too bad for you."

"Haha, jerk." Helga leans back on the bed, smiling up at the roof. A moment passes and her expression twists into one of worry. "Phoebe?"

"Hmm? What Helga?" Phoebe is busy preoccupying herself with neatly folding the contents of the now empty duffel bag.

"Arnold's alive."

Phoebe stops and turns to her best friend, concern etched across her face.

"I know."

"He's in trouble." Helga whispers.

"You told me." Phoebe moves closer and wraps her fingers around Helga's.

Helga turns her face away.

"I don't know how to help. I'm no good at…" She trails off. "I'm no good."

Things are silent for a moment as Phoebe thinks about what to say next.

Then - slowly - she speaks up.

"You don't _have_ to help him."

With that Helga snaps back up and snatches her hand away. She quickly lifts herself off the bed and makes a beeline for the door.

"Helga!" Phoebe calls. "Stop, you shouldn't - "

"The place is great Phoebe. I'm going to get Arnold and go now." Helga monotones.

Phoebe lets out a great sigh and pushes herself up off the bed. She pads towards Helga and puts her hands on her hips. Helga refuses to meet her gaze.

"Oh, cut it out, Helga. It was just a suggestion. Go ahead and ignore my advice! Run away when I try to hold a serious conversation with you. Do whatever you want." Phoebe pushes past her and into the hallway. Helga follows.

"Phoebe." She says quietly, "He saved me when I was three years old. I love him."

Phoebe stops and turns back.

"When are you going to realize that you don't owe him anything, Helga?" Her eyes seem to bore holes into Helga's very soul, but she tries as hard as she can to ignore the message.

"Phoebe."

"Okay! We're done talking about it. You're going to help Arnold and that's that." She turns a corner and enters a small room filled with sunlight. Helga follows her inside. It becomes immediately obvious that this is going to be the baby's room. Helga smiles as she runs her fingers along the side of the crib. "Shall we change the subject?" Phoebe asks.

"Please." Helga replies. "Also, Phoebe this conversation-?"

"Y'know Helga." Phoebe interrupts as she fusses with an already perfectly folded blanket draped over the edge of a rocking chair. "I find that the older I become the harder it is to just forget certain conversations."

Helga scowls and crosses her arms over her chest. She watches Phoebe move about the room in a brooding silence for a while, but soon enough Phoebe's constant movement begins to tug on her nerves.

"Phoebe, why are you cleaning? Everything is already perfect. You're just organizing the organized."

Phoebe laughs and the mood lightens considerably.

"Oh, I suppose I know that. It's just…" She flops - as well as a pregnant woman _can_ flop - down onto the rocking chair and rests her head on her hand. "My team at the lab just finished up this big project, which was _amazing_ by the way - we had to set out to find a way to neutralize this weird new chemical weapon. These two oddball agents brought it in - called it Hot Air. It was the strangest thing, Helga. It was like… a bomb without the bomb - almost completely harmless unless you knew how to activate it. My team and I worked day and night to figure out how to negate it's effects and then one day I had this big break through and -"

"And the point of all this is?" Helga interrupts.

"Oh! Sorry, I was just really into the project and the process behind it still amazes me. Anyway, now that it's all over they don't really want me to start something new and have to leave partway through because of the baby. So I'm on early paid maternity leave."

"Oh well, that sounds like a pretty cool deal. Getting paid to sit around the house and watch TV." Helga sits down on the floor across from her friend and leans back on her arms. "Lucky jerk. You're living my dream job."

"Ha! Hardly. I thought your dream job was touring the world in between writing a couple of best selling novels?" Phoebe teases.

"Okay then, you are living my not-quite dream job."

"Yes, well. It isn't exactly as fun as it sounds. I'm cooped up in this perfectly kept house all day with nothing to do. And the worst of it is that the next project they're bringing in is an even greater mystery. I managed to convince a colleague down at the lab to fax me the details of the case, but even I haven't really been able to make much headway on it. There's something about a sleeping sickness spreading around South America. The problem is that we need a living sample of the disease, but haven't had much luck in obtaining one."

"Fascinating." Helga says, stifling a yawn.

"Oh, forget you." Phoebe huffs and throws a stuffed bear towards her best friend, who catches it easily.

They both jump a little when they notice the water down from where Arnold is showering down the hall turn off. Phoebe bites at her lip and rocks back and forth in the chair, lost in thought. Helga closes her eyes and listens as something rumbles nearby.

"Gerald's home." Phoebe says. She pushes herself to her feet and is followed into the hall by Helga. "Let me go intercept him. I-I'm not sure how he'll react to surprise Arnold. You should go let Arnold know too."

"Right." Helga nods.

However, before either woman can really get anywhere, the side doorknob turns and Gerald steps inside the house. Behind Helga and Phoebe, the bathroom door opens and Arnold walks into the hall attempting to tug a too-big shirt over his head, using only one arm - the other is still wrapped tight around his bundled La Corazon. Gerald freezes, his eyes looking directly past both Helga and Phoebe to stare straight at his former best friend. The shirt slips down over Arnold's shoulders and Arnold pauses, suddenly aware of Gerald standing before him.

"Arnold?" Gerald's forehead wrinkles. "Shit."

Gerald doesn't collapse. He just tightens his grip on his suitcase and smoothes a hand over his tie.

Phoebe rushes to his side and wraps her fingers gently around his arm. He takes his eyes off of Arnold to smile at his wife. He then looks back up to where Arnold and Helga still stand, frozen in place.

"It seems like I'm going to need to hear an explanation or two, huh?"

"Sorry," Arnold says quietly, his hands fumbling with the fabric of La Corazon, "Gerald."

Helga watches the two men stare each other down and sighs inwardly.

It's been a long day.

* * *

**notes: **Helga being kidnapped will be explained better in the next chapter. Also, I plan to recap some of the stuff that's happened so if you're super confused the next chapter should hopefully help you get back on track.

I know I haven't really addressed any of you guys directly, but I just want you to know that I read every review you guys leave me and I want to thanks for all the awesome feedback. I'm glad that you guys are enjoying this as much as I am.

NEXT CHAPTER: Helga and Arnold break it down for Gerald and Phoebe. The foursome splits for a bit to have some heart-to-hearts.


	10. Explanations

**Chapter Ten**  
(_In which there are some serious discussions…_)

"Okay, could you explain that again?"

Helga sighs and pushes back in her chair, fingers drumming angrily against the tabletop.

"You deaf, Geraldo?" She asks, falling back onto old habits. The name doesn't really hold the venom that it used to though. "Or just dumb? We just went over it all."

Gerald glares at her. Phoebe wraps small fingers around his clenched fist and gives him a gentle smile. She knows that her husband is feeling ambushed by all this information. She knows, because she also sort of feels like she's drowning in the weight of all she's heard.

"Could you just summarize everything one more time? It's an awful lot to take in at once, Helga." Phoebe implores her best friend.

"Okay, but this is the last time." Helga glances at Arnold who is awkwardly fumbling with the cloth covering La Corazon. Getting him to tell the story for the first time was already like pulling teeth - she isn't looking forward to having to harass a repeat performance out of him.

"So three years ago, Arnold didn't really die. He just… got on a plane to San Lorenzo. The plane crashed, but he survived. Right, Arnold?"

He nods, still fiddling with that stupid bundle. Helga has half a mind to yank it away from him and force him to talk, but she can only imagine how well that would go over with him.

"He spent the next few years hanging out over there, unloading boxes off ships and going by the name of Phil." More nodding. He refuses to meet her gaze. "So one day some dude named Wash walks into a bar and -"

"Ward." Arnold interrupts. "Ward walked into the bar. Wash is the guy with the healing book."

"I thought it was the other way around?" Helga says, brows furrowing. "So Ward gives you the map - no, I mean - he gives you the - ...."

"Stop." Arnold says suddenly as he reaches out a hand and lays it on her shoulder. "I'll do it." He meets her gaze and smiles softly at her. "It's kind of complicated, I guess."

"Uh, maybe." Helga agrees, looking away.

"One day a man entered the bar that I frequented. He was being harassed by some of the other guys and I was sick of it so I told them off and helped him outside. We ended up heading down towards the river where we talked for a bit and then something must have set him off and he seemed to recognize me - or at least, he knew my real name."

"How?" Gerald asks, leaning forward. "You'd been going by Phil that whole time, right?"

"R-Right." Arnold seems nervous under Gerald's stare. "I never said anything about who I really was. And I don't know how he knew. He just… seemed to know me somehow."

"How odd." Phoebe whispers, touching a hand to her mouth thoughtfully. "You said he first called you by your father's name, yes? Maybe he knew you through your father?"

"Maybe. I don't know."

Helga gestures for him to continue.

"Let's hear the rest."

"Oh, well. After he called my name he sort of wigged out and ran off. I tried to follow him, but it didn't really work out. After that I ended up back in the lake and kind of just…" He goes quiet. He's still not really sure why he had jumped into the water that night. To find himself? To lose himself? "Anyway, I ended up being pulled out of the water by…_someone_."

"Ward?" Phoebe wonders, but Arnold shakes his head.

"I don't think so. I mean, I don't really remember much about it so I suppose it _could_ have been Ward, but I don't really think it was. Maybe one of the guys from the bar? But…" He rubs a hand nervously at the back of his neck. "They probably would have said something to me. This guy, he was totally silent save for his breathing."

"So it could have been anyone, from the sound of it." Helga says impatiently. "Anyway, talk about what happened next."

"Right. So I made it back to my hut and sort of collapsed into bed when I get woken in the middle of the night to find Ward standing over me. Scared the shit out of me. He ended up handing me a newspaper clipping and…" Arnold pauses a moment before lifting his small bundle up onto the table and finally lets go of its sides. "This."

"You said it was La Corazon? Like from that story in your dad's journal?" Gerald asks, remembering the day years ago that Arnold had shown him the old book, filled with stories of adventures in jungles and saving an ancient race of people. "The Green Eye's sacred relic thing, right?"

"Yes." Arnold replies, his voice heavy with emotion. "At least, I think it is. I haven't looked at it."

The group is silent as they process this information. Helga bursts first.

"You haven't even _looked_ at it? Are you stupid?! You could be carrying around a stupid beach ball for all you know!" She screams, throwing her hands up in the air. "You could be risking your life for nothing!"

"Or what if it's something that is meant to spread a disease?! What if this Ward guy gave it to you in the hopes that you'd bring it here and start an epidemic?" Phoebe pushes back, horrified. Gerald throws a protective arm out in front of her.

"What the hell, man?" He shouts. "You're putting my family in danger!"

Arnold calmly reaches out his arms to accept his bundle once more.

"I can't look." He says simply. "It's too sacred. But I really do believe it is La Corazon."

"Arnold, you can't _know_ unless you look." Helga says as gently as she can through gritted teeth.

"Here." He says, reaching out for her hand. She raises an eyebrow at him, but he only widens his palm for her hand. She bites at her lip and slips her hand into his. Gerald and Phoebe watch in silence from across the room - she's got her head leaning against his side as he slowly rubs at her arms. Ever so gently, Arnold pulls Helga's hand towards the cloth bundle. He carefully presses her palm against the side of it and holds it there with his fingers. She let's out a small gasp, but doesn't pull away.

"You feel?" He asks.

Helga nods and carefully runs her hand along the bundle's side.

"It's… so warm." She whispers in awe. But it's not just the warmth that gets to her. Touching the bundle makes her feel… safe. It's like touching the smell of warm blacktop or wrapping her fingers around the feeling that she used to get whenever Arnold smiled at her. "Home." She breathes.

"Yeah." Arnold agrees, watching as her eyes mist over. "Home."

She thinks about asking him what it feels like when he touches it, but before she can even think about forming the words they are interrupted.

"Guys?" Phoebe asks, her voice sounding distant and far away.

Helga snaps back to herself and reluctantly tugs her hand away.

"Sorry." She apologizes. "I know it sounds kind of crazy, but…" Helga doesn't look at Arnold. "I think he's right. I really think that Ward was telling the truth and that _is_ La Corazon."

Gerald sighs heavily and guides Phoebe back to the table. They both sit back down, but don't really seem to relax.

"Okay, so. Let's say that Ward did give you La Corazon - now what? I mean, what's the point?"

"I…" Arnold bites at his lip. "I'm not sure." He sets La Corazon back down in his lap. "But I kind of think it's the key."

"The key?" Phoebe asks.

"To my parents."

"Arnold, man." Gerald says solemnly. "I thought you let that go years ago."

"You act like it's the easiest thing to do." Arnold snaps. "That leaving behind the people who had loved you most is just something that happens one day. Well, I'm sorry, but as long as there's still a sliver of hope I'm never giving up on them. They were going to come back. They loved me." His voice cracks.

"I just… It's been 25 years, Arnold. I'm not saying to give up hope - I just… It isn't _healthy_, man."

Gerald watches as Arnold clenches and unclenches his fists. It's so weird seeing him again after all this time. Three years ago, Gerald had put Arnold to rest in his mind. He'd grieved, of course, but… he'd moved forward. It was sad and sometimes the pain of losing someone who used to be so dear was almost impossible to bear, but he'd managed it. And not once did he think about following his old best friend into San Lorenzo on the faint hope that he might still be alive. The truth was, if he _had_ thought that way - it would have hurt a thousand times worse.

"Anyway," Helga says, noticing how the air around the two men had shifted to something uncomfortable. "Let's hear the rest of the story."

"When he handed me La Corazon, Ward also gave me this newspaper clipping." Arnold tells them, unfolding a slip of paper from his pockets.

"Oh what's this?" Phoebe says as she grabs hold of a small flier that Arnold had also pulled out. "Oh! Rhonda's party! How'd you get an invitation?" She asks, looking at Arnold.

He tugs the flier back.

"Helga gave it to me. I don't really think I'm going to make it though. Probably for the best." He says with a half hearted laugh.

"Oh that's too bad. I managed to convince Gerald to take off work for it. It's going to be a pretty big event, from what I've heard."

"Phoebe!" Helga chides. "Stop getting off track."

"Sorry!"

"So the newspaper clipping?" Gerald leads.

"Yeah. There's a man who lives on the outskirts of Hillwood. He's throwing some big party or something tomorrow night. The important thing is that he happens to be a collector of Green Eyes artifacts. He's from somewhere down south, but he keeps his collection up here - normally under heavy security, but this party tomorrow is open to the city's elite. Security around the artifacts is sure to still be tight, but it'll be as loose as it'll ever get."

"You're planning to _steal_ from this man?" Phoebe gasps.

"I think I have to. Look at what Ward circled." Arnold says pushing the article towards her. In the middle of a list of the Green Eyes' pieces that the man in the article owned was a big red circle around one item.

"A book of healing?" Phoebe wonders aloud, skimming over the contents of the article. "You think you need to steal it?"

"I'd rather just ask, but… I can't really imagine him just giving it to me. Also, under the circumstances, I think it's better that I don't get a lot of people involved." Arnold says quietly, gazing at the rest of them, suddenly feeling very responsible. "I shouldn't even be here. What if they come after you guys?"

Gerald and Phoebe stiffen a little, but Helga lays a hesitant hand on his arm.

"Look, no one knows we're here. It'll be fine. Besides, I've been kidnapped, remember?"

"Stop!" Phoebe cuts in. "We need to stop getting ahead of ourselves here. So we're up to Ward leaving La Corazon and that newspaper clipping with you."

"It's pretty simple from there. I've spent the past two weeks making my way back to Hillwood so that I could grab my dad's journal and figure out a way to get a hold of that healing book. I accidentally ended up on Helga's stoop this morning and from there we left Hillwood and came here."

"And you were being attacked?"

"Yeah."

Gerald looks at them sternly.

"And stole a car?"

Helga and Arnold exchange an awkward glance.

"We had to." Helga mutters sheepishly. "We needed a way out of Hillwood." She looks up. "Can you explain the kidnapping thing again? I think I've got it pieced together, but I just want to make sure we're caught up."

"I don't know the whole story, but… from the sound of it that lady who's car you stole came to just as the police were about to knock down the door. She must have told them about you showing up in her house with a strange man and the gunshots. When they checked your house and you weren't there along with a few signs of struggle they sent out an alert and contacted your family. And I'm sure once Rhonda gets wind of the news it'll be all over the place." Phoebe explains.

"I guess Mrs. Grant assumed that Arnold was responsible for the gunshots and everything else. They must think that he's kidnapped me and not that I went with him of my own accord." Helga says, rubbing at her temples. It's been one crazy day.

"That explains the policemen back at the diner then." Arnold adds. "They must have noticed the car was missing already. We're lucky Wolfgang showed up when he did."

"Oh yeah, so lucky." Helga says sardonically as she rolls her eyebrows.

Arnold's about to say something in response to her sarcasm, but is interrupted by a loud scraping sound. They all watch as Gerald stands up out of his chair and silently moves towards the refrigerator.

"What are you up to, hun?" Phoebe asks softly. He smiles warmly at her as he pulls out what looks to be frozen steaks and a bottle of vodka.

"Sorry that you can't have any, Phoebe, but I think the rest of us could really use a drink right about now." He lays the steaks down on the counter and turns back to grab a few more supplies out of his drawers. "How do you feel about steaks on the patio for dinner tonight?" He asks the group.

They all exchange somewhat surprised glances at the sudden shift in topic and mood, but find that it's something of a welcome relief.

"That sounds wonderful, Gerald." Phoebe beams at her husband.

* * *

Three hours later, Helga is happily buzzed and incredibly full. After dinner had ended, Phoebe had brought out a whole tin of brownies that she had been snacking on in secret. Gerald had looked affronted for a moment, but once his wife had offered them to him, he'd laughed it all off. Now they were sitting on the back patio as the night wound down, bringing up old adventures and minor tragedies from when they were younger. Even Arnold had somehow managed to enjoy himself and, Helga had noted, actually released his death grip on La Corazon somewhere in the middle of it all.

"And then we _finally_ make it back to school after the worst day of our lives only to find that the rest of the class had spent a whole day playing carnival games! Man, we learned our lesson that day." Gerald says, throwing up his arms in mock exasperation.

"Oh, I remember that day!" Phoebe chimes in, "It was such a neat surprise! Helga and I spent the day throwing balls at the dunking booth - Wartz was on the hot seat, I do believe."

"Jerks." Arnold says.

"Hey!" Helga yells, nudging him on the shoulder. "It isn't _our_ fault that you two stooges went and mucked up what should have been a really cool day."

"Yeah, yeah." He says, pushing her back. It's nice, being like this. He can almost pretend that everything is okay. If it weren't for the warm, silent humming of La Corazon to his right, he could believe that this was truly his life now. Hanging out with his old best friend, drinking and reminiscing about adventures he used to have. Being normal.

Phoebe yawns loudly, startling them.

"Oh man, I think it's getting past my bedtime." She murmurs, eyes already half-closed.

"Aw, we tuckered you out, eh Phoebe?" Helga says as she reaches out to lay a hand on Phoebe's shoulder.

"Yeah, you guys are the worst." Phoebe teases. "Anyway, I think I'm gonna head in for tonight. Helga you never did get to take that shower. If you want you can do that now while I show Arnold to his room." She offers.

Helga frowns.

"Oh, I see how it is. Let the Footballhead have the fancy bedroom and leave your poor, suffering best friend to the couch, right?"

"Wrong." Phoebe replies, grinning. "You and me are bunking up tonight. My poor, suffering husband can take the couch. Sound good, Gerald?" She teases. He lets out a long, suffering sigh in response.

"You are a cruel mistress, Mrs. Johanssen."

"All right, Helga and Arnold follow me please!" Phoebe says as she gingerly lifts herself off the her chair.

"I'll be in later, Phoebe." Gerald calls after them as they enter the house one-by-one. "I want to clean up and sit for a bit."

Phoebe waves in response and then leads her guests up the stairs to the second floor of the house. She points Helga towards the bathroom and tosses her a some clothing from the duffel bag they had emptied earlier.

"Take as much time as you'd like, Helga."

Helga grasps hold of Phoebe's hands for a small moment before she closes the door.

"Thanks," She says softly, squeezing her best friend's fingers. "Phoebe."

"Go on." Phoebe says shooing Helga back. "Get yourself cleaned up. I'll probably be passed out by the time you get out, so don't worry about saying goodnight."

Helga smiles and then shuts herself in.

Phoebe turns to Arnold, who had hung back, not quite sure what to say or do now that Helga wasn't around. It wasn't that he didn't like Phoebe, it's just that he didn't really have much to say to her after all this time. She was a good friend back when they were kids, but they just weren't that close. If anything, Phoebe was Helga and Gerald's friend - he was practically a stranger to her and vice versa.

"Well, come on." She says waving him down the hall.

He pads after her as she leads him into a rather plain room, shifting La Corazon to his front as he follows. He looks around, but there isn't a lot of decoration as opposed to the rest of the house.

"We haven't really been expecting guests yet so we haven't really done much with it." Phoebe says, as she awkwardly rubs her forearm.

"It's nice." Arnold responds, trying to force himself to keep it up, "The whole house is nice. And the baby - " He gestures to her stomach. "That's… congratulations Phoebe."

"Thank you, Arnold." Her eyes are bright in the moonlight, but he realizes that she isn't really looking at him. It's almost as if she's looking past him. He watches as she bites at her lips and seems to wrestle with herself for a moment. "Arnold?" She asks tentatively.

"Mmm, yeah?" He says slowly.

She moves across the room towards the window and begins fumbling with the blinds.

"I think you should leave tonight."

He steps back, not really sure if he heard her right.

"Phoebe?"

She turns.

"I think that you really ought to leave tonight, Arnold." She says again. "I don't mean to offend you, but this isn't about you really. It's about Helga."

"What about her?" He asks, fingers splayed against the warm fabric of La Corazon.

"She's in love with you. She'd follow you to the ends of the earth if you let her. She'd _die_ for you." Phoebe goes quiet then. "And I hate that."

It doesn't hit him as hard as he'd have expected - knowing that Helga is still in love with him. It had become something he'd always sort of known all throughout his life - the sun would rise and Helga would love him. It was still sort of weird hearing the words out loud, but it wasn't frightening or shocking. Just… odd.

"I don't…." He trails off.

"I know." Phoebe says with a small nod, "You didn't ask for it. And you still aren't asking for her help, but still she's tagging along. But you have to put your foot down Arnold. You can't let her die for your dream." Phoebe implores him. "If you really feel that you need to go off and find your parents then so be it, but leave her here!"

"I didn't want her to follow me!" He says tersely. "I tried leaving her already, but she didn't let me."

"Of course she won't let you go." Phoebe says with a sigh. "Not with you alive, but still in danger. She'd fight tooth and nail to save you - to help you. But it's no good, Arnold. She'd finally started coming around, y'know? I could get her to smile sometimes. I caught her jotting down a few stray lines on a napkin one afternoon. She would have healed." She leans back against the wall. "You resurfacing has reopened the wound. If you go now she might still be okay, but if she gets reattached and then loses you again…." Phoebe trails off.

"I didn't ask for…."

She lays a small hand on his arm and smiles sadly up at him.

"I know."

She walks past him then to the door. As she goes to leave she turns her head just a tiny bit back in his direction.

"The keys to the minivan are on the hook by the garage door. The ones with the Ronnie Matthews keychain."

"I thought you ended up hating Ronnie Matthews?" He jokes half-heartedly, feeling the weight of all she has said.

"He's got a mustache scribbled on now."

"Ah."

"Goodnight, Arnold." Phoebe says softly as she closes the door.

"Goodnight." Arnold responds to no one at all.

* * *

Helga steps out of the bathroom and into the hall. She lets out a soft sigh as she runs fingers through her wet, blonde hair. She is about to head towards the master bedroom, when she realizes that she could really use a glass of milk. So instead of joining Phoebe, she turns and makes her way downstairs into the kitchen. She pours herself a glass of milk when the light from outside catches her eye.

She takes a small sip out of her glass as she pads towards the back door and slowly slides open the glass.

"You still out here?" She calls out to Gerald who is standing at the edge of the patio, with his back to her.

He turns to face her and she notices a large cigar between his fingers.

"A cigar?" She asks curiously. "I thought Phoebe had gotten you to kick that habit."

"She did." He says tiredly, rifling through his pockets. "They're supposed to be for when one of the guys from the office comes over. I haven't touched 'em before now. But… today's been kind of crazy." He pulls out another from his pockets and offers it to her. "You want one?"

Helga pauses for a moment, before reaching out to accept his offering. He flicks his lighter and helps light it for her.

"Thanks." She says.

They smoke in silence for a few minutes, neither quite sure what else is left to say to one another. Helga looks at him, studying his solid frame. She's never quite stopped being a little resentful of him. He'd always managed to get in her way somehow. She doesn't exactly blame him for that, but it still makes it hard to know what to say to him.

"What the hell are you doing, Helga?" He asks then, startling her out of her reverie.

"What are you talking about?" She scowls.

He slips his hands into his pockets and leans back against the side of his house.

"I mean, what are you thinking - following Arnold to the ends of the universe on some crazy suicide mission? It's _stupid_ and you're gonna go and get yourself killed for it. You know that, right?"

"What the hell do you know?" She says angrily, stepping away from him.

"I know that you've been absolutely crazy about that guy for a stupid amount of time when he's barely even given you a second glance. I know that you're still crazy about him and that you don't even see how incredibly stupid the two of you are acting right now."

"You don't know anything about me." Helga snarls, dropping her cigar to the ground and stomping on it for good measure. "So shut the hell up, _Geraldo_." With that she turns to march back into the house.

"I know that you ran away to find him."

She freezes.

"Did not."

"In ninth grade. You hopped the bus one day and went to find him. I saw you get on."

He takes a step towards her and reaches out to gently touch her shoulder.

"You have no idea where I was going."

"I know." He says gently. "After Wolfgang and… Brainy. You snapped. Cut off all your hair and _left_. I know where you went and I know why."

"Shut up." She refuses to face him as her eyes gloss over with tears. "You don't know."

"You don't have to follow him, Helga. You don't owe him anything."

Again.

"I never said I did." She clenches her fists at her sides and chokes back a sob.

"Still." Gerald pauses. "You should stay here. Move on."

"How can you say that?" Helga seethes, brushing a hand against her eyes. "He's your best friend, you asshole. And he's alive. How can you act like that doesn't mean anything?"

He slowly turns her so that she's facing him, but she still refuses to look at him.

"Yeah. He _was_ my best friend. But that was ten years ago. I'm thrilled that he's alive, but…" He sighs. "I've got a life of my own and a family that I'm slowly building. I can't drop everything to follow him into danger this time around. And neither should you. You're twenty-five years old, Helga. You don't have to build your life around him anymore. You never did."

She responds by tugging out of his grip and turning for the door. He grabs her by her wrist to hold her there.

"Helga." He says. "Stop."

"I'm not doing this. I'm not having this conversation with you. Like you said, I'm a grown woman and I _will_ decide what's best for me. I don't need you and Phoebe prodding at me. Maybe I'm just following him because I want the adventure - did you ever think about that? M-maybe this has _nothing_ to do with umbrellas or love or _anything_." She snaps, pulling away. "Whatever. And I'm taking the couch tonight. I don't really feel like sharing a bed with anyone tonight." She stops. "Besides, Phoebe will probably feel more comfortable with you there anyway."

He sighs and lets her go. She slides open the glass door and steps inside. He pauses for a moment to put out his cigar.

"You coming?" She demands. He nods and pushes past her.

"You're so demanding." He taunts, but pauses for a moment to put his hand on her shoulder. "Goodnight, Helga."

She smiles at him as he retreats towards the stairway. Helga goes to close the door when she's suddenly overcome with an odd sensation. It's almost like she's being watched.

With her heart in her throat, she peers out into the murky darkness. In the distance she can see a line of trees, but it's too dark to really make out any distinguishing figures. Shivering, she quickly snaps the door shut, locks it and then slides the curtains closed across it.

She lets out a breath she didn't realize she was holding as she makes her way to the couch where a blanket and pillow are already laid out across it. She snuggles into the cushions and closes her eyes.

It's been one hell of a day after all.

"Goodnight." She whispers to the air.

* * *

"H-hold on baby, you're cracking up." Wolfgang curses as he goes to fiddle with the dials on his beat up CB radio. He angrily removes his hand from the hem of his pants and focuses it on trying to re-establish his connection to the woman he'd just been talking to. "Come on, you piece of shit. Not tonight." He swears, pounding a fist against it.

The radio suddenly sparks to life, but instead of the sultry voice of his would-be lady friend, he is instead assaulted with some sort of… report.

He swears again and goes to change it when suddenly the message seems to reach his ears.

"Missing… blonde female… Helga G. … please call 911 upon news of… big reward… Big Bob Pataki…."

Wolfgang leans back in his seat, dumbstruck.

"Well, I'll be." He says with a laugh. "Big reward, eh?"

He pulls a cellphone out of his pocket and pauses to think for a moment. Then, with a quick flip of his hand he opens it up and begins dialing.

"Sorry, Blondie." He whispers to himself as he holds the receiver up to his ear. "But opportunities like this don't come around all that often."

When the line connects to the Hillwood Police Station, Wolfgang is ready to give away all the details of his adventure with Helga G. Pataki and Arnold Shortman that afternoon.

* * *

Arnold moves as quietly as he can through the still dark house.

He had been sort of hoping that he'd be able to get one full night's sleep here, before having to leave, but Phoebe's words are still ringing in his ears. He knows it's better this way. Leaving Helga here and going off on his own is probably the best thing that he can possibly do for her. It isn't fair to drag her into something that has absolutely nothing to do with her.

He gingerly steps around the couch, hoping not to wake Gerald in his departure. Arnold squints in the darkness for the Ronnie Matthews keychain Phoebe had mentioned. He spots it and grabs the keys off the wall.

As quietly as possible he turns the doorknob that leads into the garage, it's not entirely easy to manage with La Corazon still tucked tightly under his arm, but he manages. He shuts it behind him just as smoothly.

He is about to head for the Minivan when suddenly the headlights on Gerald's Jaguar turn on and an engine revs up, causing him to jump back.

"Yo!" Helga yells out the driver's window of the Jag. "You weren't really gonna take that ugly hunk of junk were you? Not very classy, Footballhead. You're gonna get mistaken for a soccer mom in that boat of a car."

Arnold can feel his heart pounding in his throat as Helga lifts what _looks_ like a man's wallet up to show him.

"Ready to do some shopping?" She taunts, raising an eyebrow in his direction.

He knows that Phoebe is right. He knows that taking Helga with him is a terrible plan.

Arnold beams at her.

* * *

**notes:** So I think it's pretty apparent at this point that there are a lot of different layers going on in this story. Hopefully you guys are now completely up to speed with where the characters are at and are ready for MORE ADVENTURE.

NEXT CHAPTER: Helga and Arnold plot out their next plan of action.


	11. Lies

**Chapter 11  
**(_In which a few people tell some lies..._)

"Yes, officer. I'm sorry I wasn't much help. Please let me know if you find her - I've been worried sick. Thank you so much. Take care now."

With that last goodbye Phoebe Hyerdahl gently closes the front door to reveal Gerald leaning against the wall behind it. His arms are crossed over his chest and he refuses to look at her.

"You should have told them the truth." He says darkly, eyes narrowed.

Phoebe sighs and reaches for his arm.

"I couldn't do that." She says softly, rubbing small circles on the back of his hands with her thumbs. "And you know it."

"Bah!" He shouts throwing up his arms. "All I know is that _they took my __**baby**_!"

Phoebe winces.

"I fear that was probably Helga's idea." She sighs, "But it's really not the end of the world. Her note says --"

"-- How am I supposed to get around?! How am I supposed to _live_?!" Gerald whirls on his wife and grips her arms, panic creeping into his eyes. "Phoebe, _what if they hurt her_?!"

"Oh please." Phoebe says shrugging him off. "Calm down, you big baby. It's just a car."

Gerald pulls back and stares at her as if he cannot believe what he has just heard.

"Just a..." He swallows. "Just a _car_?" He squeaks.

"Ugh," Phoebe says turning from him. "If you're going to be like this then I have to go clean something instead. Seriously, Gerald - grow up."

"Easy for you to say! I mean, what am I going to do now? How am I supposed to get around - Phoebe, how am I going to get to work and back? This is a _disaster_!" He complains, throwing up his arms in anguish. Phoebe just rolls her eyes at him and keeps walking. Then, she turns and smirks at him.

"Guess you'll just have to take the minivan."

"Not funny." He says.

"It's not a joke, Gerald." She adds with a smile as she begins folding the blankets Helga had left behind on the couch from the night before. "You're really going to have to take the minivan to work."

Gerald lets out a soft, broken sound.

"Anyway," Phoebe adds, ignoring him as she moves about towards the kitchen counter. "You'll just have to make due for now."

Suddenly Gerald's face turns serious. He walks over to where Phoebe is busy rifling through cabinets.

"Phoebe."

"Mmm?" She says reaching for a box of Cheerios.

"It's not just about the car." He leans against the counter and pulls out his cellphone. "I have to cancel the credit cards. This is… it's a big deal Phoebe. You offered a car and they just… mixed that up, but you didn't tell Arnold to take my wallet. They crossed a line, Phoebe."

She puts her hand over his.

"No."

"Phoebe, I want to trust them. You know I do. But we can't just ignore the possible ramifications here. Lying to the police? After they took our car and my wallet? Phoebe there's just… I'm having a hard time justifying this. I feel like we've been scammed. I know you trust Helga and I really want to trust Arnold, but it's been ten years. He's changed." He slides his thumb along the keys of his phone.

"No." Phoebe repeats. Her voice is firm and her words sound final. She pushes ever so slightly on his hand, causing him to close his phone.

They stare at each other over the counter both looking to the other to back down. Finally, Gerald sighs.

"Fine." He agrees. "I won't cancel the cards."

"Oh, Gerald." Phoebe begins as she reaches out her arms for him. He pulls back.

"This isn't a permanent free ride for them Phoebe. They have two days and then I'm pulling the plug on the cards. That's it. And if we don't hear from them within the week…" He trails off. "They could be in trouble."

Phoebe sighs.

"I know this is hard." She says softly as she leans back against the kitchen counter. "I mean, she's my best friend Gerald. I'm so scared for her." Her voice cracks.

"Phoebe…" Gerald says gently as he walks into the kitchen and scoops the small woman into his arms.

"I'm scared, but this isn't about me." She says as she wraps her thin arms around his stomach. "We both tried to talk them out of this and they didn't listen. They've made up their minds and even though I'm terrified - even though I want so badly to tell the cops how to find her so that they can drag her back home - I have to trust her. I have to believe that in the power of Arnold and Helga together."

"Yeah." Gerald agrees. "Those two… if it were anyone else it would be impossible. But Arnold and Helga?"

He takes Phoebe's face in his hand and smoothes his thumb over her cheek, brushing away tears.

"They're gonna make it." Phoebe says firmly.

"I guess I can give them three days before I cancel the cards." Gerald says with a slow smile.

Phoebe reaches up onto her tiptoes and pulls him down into a gentle kiss.

"You're the best, Gerald."

* * *

"They're going to cancel the cards and you're going to get us caught."

Helga sticks out her tongue at Arnold as she drops back into the driver's seat of Gerald's stolen Jag.

"What do you think?" She asks as she models her brand new sunglasses that she had just finished charging to Gerald's visa account along with a fresh tank of gas. "Too much? I know they're kind of big, but I think they're cute. A little too tacky, but hey - they're gas station sunglasses! Plus the rhinestones form little hearts on the side - cute, right?"

"Helga." Arnold says taking her hands in his. "Listen to what I'm saying to you - _you are going to get us caught_. No more purchases and we need to get out of this car before Gerald and Phoebe wake up and call the police!"

"Calm down, Footballbrain." She laughs, tugging out of his grip and turning her attention back to starting up the car. "Phoebe's my _best friend_ and you and Geraldo used to be pretty gay for each other or whatever. There is no way they'd rat us out to the cops. Besides, didn't Phoebe tell you it was cool to take a car."

"She said to take the minivan. I don't think Gerald is going to be happy when he finds out that we took -"

"Oh, quit worrying. A car is a car and Gerald should learn a lesson about materialism in all of this." Helga says with a wave of her hand as she pulls out of the gas station lot and heads back into the heavily trafficked highway. "We all win here."

"What about the credit cards, Helga? I somehow doubt Gerald said it was cool for you to take his wallet."

"Hey! I made sure to leave him all the important stuff. I just took the credit cards and some of the extra cash. Anyway, if you're that worried about the cards being cancelled then why don't we stop at an ATM and pull out a bunch of money now." She offers as she pulls into the far left lane and begins zooming past the rest of the cars to her right.

"What? No! Helga, this is a terrible idea. We're stealing from Gerald and Phoebe!" Arnold yells as he grips his armrest, fear suddenly tugging at him as Helga breaks 80 mph. "And slow down! We're going to get pulled over and get in even more trouble. _Helga_!"

"Fine! You are such a baby. All this speed and class and you don't even want to try it out." She pouts.

"We're trying to _not_ draw attention to ourselves!" Arnold shouts, completely exasperated at this point. "You're being reckless!"

"And you're being a worrywart."

"Helga!"

"Arnold!"

He glares at her while she smirks at the road laid out in front of them.

"Anyway," Helga says breaking the angry silence, "I don't even know where I'm going. What the hell are we supposed to do now, huh?"

Arnold sighs and digs around in his pocket for the clipping from Ward.

"This masquerade ball is happening tonight. It's probably the best opportunity I'll ever have to get a hold of the Green Eye's Book of Healing. The problem is that I still don't know how to get in. I mean, I'm sure it's by invitation only and the only way to get into the ball without an invite would be if you were rich and important enough to override the invite. But neither of us has that kind of social power and even if we did get in we have very recognizable faces right now. I've got a whole slew of faceless villains chasing after me for reasons I'm still not sure of and you've got the entire Hillwood police force out looking for you. How on earth are we supposed to just waltz into the ball?" Arnold groans and leans back into his seat, knocking a fist against the car door in anger. "It's impossible. This is stupid. This might be my only chance to snag the Book of Healing and there's nothing I can do about it."

Helga silently lets all this information settle on her. She hasn't really taken time to consider how difficult getting into a private ball would be. After all, she had always somehow managed to bend situations to her will when it really mattered. Her father's wealth and influence gave her some semblance of power over various situations, but when it came down to it she still wasn't a Wellington-Lloyd or a Smythe-Higgins.

And even if her name was powerful enough to allow her access to the event, she'd probably have to deal with the ramifications of having been "kidnapped" upon entering.

So being Helga G. Pataki is currently useless.

And maybe that is the important part.

"I think I have it!" She says suddenly. "Hold on tight, Arnold! We've got a little side trip to make." With that she quickly cuts back across the highway and just barely managing to make it to the turn off for the next exit.

"Helga, what the hell?!" Arnold shouts as he holds on for dear life.

"Trust me!" She shouts, grinning wildly. "It's a good thing I snagged Gerald's credit cards, because we've got some shopping to do!"

Together they head into the city.

* * *

"May I escort you inside, my lady?" A tall, well-dressed usher asks as he holds out his arm.

Helga smiles demurely and quickly slips her arm into his.

"Please walk slowly, my good sir. I twisted my ankle playing tennis at the club last week and I'm afraid I'm a little weak on my feet."

"Fear not, madame." The man says smiling at her. "I shall not let you fall."

"You are too kind." She says with a nod of her head, careful not to move too much for fear of having the diamond tiara slip out from the tangle of curls artfully arranged on the top of her head.

Together Helga and her escort slowly make their way to the top of the stairs where a man with a long, pointed nose is peering over a list of names. Her long skirts rustle gently behind her. When they reach the top of the stares the man with the pointed nose looks her over skeptically. Helga nervously adjusts the mask covering her eyes.

"Your name, madam." He prompts Helga. Helga's escort winks at her. She lets out a small sigh of breath before screwing up her courage and announcing her name for all to hear.

"My name is Helga van Büren."

* * *

**notes:** Obviously more will be explained in the next chapter, but I really wanted to have that surprise moment at the end there. Also where is Arnold?! :O

I also just wanted to thank you guys for the abundance of favorites/reviews! Getting feedback on this story is pretty much amazing since it's sort of my baby and I'm super proud of it and knowing that you guys love it too makes writing it all worthwhile!

**EDIT: **Just wanted to let you guys know that I'm going back and adding line breaks and so there'll be some stuff getting moved around/deleted for a little bit. DO NOT BE ALARMED.


	12. Plans

**Chapter 12  
**(_In which a plan quickly dissolves into chaos_…)

The murmur of gossip begins almost immediately and Helga does her best to keep from blushing. She holds her head high and keeps her attention focused on the attendant in front of her as he calls out her name once more and gestures her forward into the throng of people. The man still holding onto her arm gives her a small squeeze to grab her attention. She turns to face him while doing her best to keep calm.

"This is where I must leave you, my lady. I hope you enjoy your evening." With that he slips his arm out from hers.

She nods her head at him and puts on a smile.

"Yes, thank you very much for your company." She says as he takes her hand and plants a soft kiss on the back of it. This time the blush is uncontrollable.

Suddenly she feels a soft pressure on the back of her calves and she quickly pulls her hand away.

"S-sorry." She says as her escort looks at her completely bewildered. "Just the nerves getting to me. I wasn't exactly on the invite list for tonight."

"Well, of course not, dear lady. After you moved to Switzerland following your grandfather's passing I highly doubt that _anyone_ expected you to return anytime soon. Your appearance here tonight has caught everyone by surprise." He smiles at her and she notices a knowing gleam in his eye. "Perhaps that was your plan though? Show up out of the blue in the hopes of being the most talked about lady at the ball? Trying to outclass even little Miss Charlotte Wash, hmm?"

"Charlotte Wash?" Helga repeats, confused.

"Dr. Wash's daughter? Her father is throwing this ball for her." Her escort frowns at her. "My, Miss Van Büren, you really seem to have fallen out of the loop."

There's another sharp tap at the back of her legs. Wrap it up, Hell Girl.

"I'm afraid so." She sighs, feigning shame. She then coyly bats her lashes at her companion. "Promise you won't tell anyone how forgetful I've become?"

He reaches for her hand. "Of course, my sweet lady."

"Sadly, I must leave you now. I have to make a few stunning impressions on old rivals. I'm sure you understand." Helga puts on her best Rhonda mask even trying to draw out her words in that haughty way she remembers Rhonda talking in their youth. "Thank you ever so much for escorting me inside, my good sir." She accidentally slips into a bit of Lila. Hopefully it's not too noticeable.

He bows a little and then turns and walks in the other direction. Helga smiles fondly after him, before she is interrupted by yet another push to the underside of her knees.

"So impatient. Criminy." She mutters to herself as she slowly begins making her way towards a table littered with a variety of what appear to be French delicacies. Once at the table, she kicks one of her feet back just a bit. There's a nearly inaudible 'oof' from underneath the layers of her dress, which she helps cover up with a loud cough. She feels her cheeks flush as something skirts around the sides of her legs. She instinctively starts fluffing the front of her dress, as something else seems to rustle it from the inside. She takes a breath, hoping that people aren't really looking at her. Then, she feels a sharp tug on the front of her skirt.

She quickly slips off a glove, drops it on the ground and then bends down to retrieve it. It's difficult in all her layers of dress, but she manages to kneel down on the ground by catering table.

"What?" She whispers a little angrily as Arnold peers out at her from underneath the red velvet tablecloth.

"Took you long enough! That was not exactly a comfortable position to hold, you know? A little awkward." He snaps.

"Hey, at least you were the one getting to do all the looking. I was the one who had to deal with your footballhead banging into my butt. And I'm the one who has to mingle with all these uptight rich assholes while pretending to be someone else - not to mention I have to figure out where the hell the books is at, relay the information back to you and then somehow set off an array of fireworks in the women's toilet without anyone catching me. All you have to do is stay hidden and then nab the book when no one's looking."

"Oh yeah, real easy."

Helga sticks her tongue out at him.

"Excuse me?"

With a screech she shoves Arnold's face back under the counter and snatches up her glove from the ground.

"Ah yes. Very good. My glove. Very expensive, you know. Wouldn't want to lose that now, would I?" She lets out a tinkling laugh as she turns to look at the man who has approached her. She recognizes him immediately and it takes all of her willpower not to swallow her tongue right then and there.

"My mistake then. I was just wondering if you were in need of any assistance, mademoiselle. You have been on the floor by the buffet table for quite some time and I wanted to be certain that our French cuisine was not a source of discomfort for you. Our food does seem to have a tendency to negatively affect those of certain… backgrounds and who haven't been brought up on such delicacies. Much was my surprise that Miss Helga van Büren could possibly find our selection less than palatable." Came the condescending voice of Jacques - a man Helga instantly recognized as a waiter of Hillwood's most prestigious French restaurant, _Chez Paris_.

"Oh no, the food is um… to die for, I'm sure. I just had a spot of trouble locating my glove." Helga says nervously as she wags the offending object around in the air.

"You're 'sure'? You mean to say you have not had a chance to sample the food yet? Non, this will not do. Here, allow me to make you a small plate. Your grandfather was an honored guest at our establishment and we will treat his favorite granddaughter with the same respect we bestowed upon him. Come," Jacques says as he grabs a plate from the end of the table and thrusts it into Helga's hands. "let me assist you."

"Oh, uh. Yes. Certainly, my good sir."

"Now here we have Les Escargot and Pattie de Foie Gras - a favorite in this city - and you must try the Cervelles Braises Avec les Oeufs Brouilles -"

"No!" Helga shouts, perhaps a little too loudly, immediately recognizing the dish.

"M-mademoiselle?" Jacques asks, eyeing her suspiciously.

"I-it's just… I'm allergic to… I can't have…. I get sick." Helga says weakly, looking around for help as Jacques seems to finally get his first good look at her.

"Mademoiselle, I know for a fact that you have never paid a visit to _Chez Paris_, despite your grandfather's affection for our establishment, and yet…" Helga shrinks under his glare. "I have the strangest feeling that I have seen you before. Perhaps -"

"Helga?"

They are interrupted by a loud shriek as Helga is suddenly pulled away from Jacques and into an uncomfortably tight hug. "What?"

"Helga! Oh, I was ever so worried about you!"

Helga chokes on her own spit as she throws her weight backwards, tearing herself out of Lila Sawyer's arms.

"_Lila_?" She screeches.

Under the table, Arnold's breath catches. The familiar waiter was bad enough, but Lila would know for a fact that this Helga was not, in fact, Helga van Büren but a believed-to-be-missing Helga G. Pataki. And, if Helga gets caught, it will blow his chances to nab the Green Eyes' Book of Healing.

He pauses for a moment to weigh his options, before coming to a final decision.

If Helga's caught, she'll ultimately be fine, but if he doesn't get that book…

He thinks of El Corazon and his father's journal, safely buried one foot underground only a mile away. His fingers ache for the comforting heartbeat of El Corazon, but he tries his best to ignore the separation pangs. Right now, he needs the healing book. Arnold doesn't know how it's going to help, but he knows it's a necessary piece to his puzzle - it's one more step closer to his parents. Helga will understand, come what may and Phoebe's warning is still echoing inside of him anyway - that he should leave Helga now before it's too late. Maybe this is the moment. Let Helga get caught and in the chaos following her exposure, he'll grab the book when no one is looking. Or he'll find a way to create his own diversion. Or maybe he'll just grab the book in plain sight of everyone and fight tooth and nail to get the hell out of there. Something will work out. He just has to be… optimistic.

With that thought, he slowly crawls his way towards the end of the table towards the swinging kitchen doors he can see looming in the distance.

While Arnold changes tactics, Helga struggles to keep the original plan intact. She does her best to recover quickly from the evening's newest surprise - Lila Sawyer, looking just as perfect as ever as she wraps her arm around what Helga presumes must be her date. With a silent sigh of frustration, Helga notes that she vaguely recognizes the man on Lila's arm - they'd met before as children and, with the luck Helga is having tonight, she figures that he probably recognizes her too.

"Miss Van Büren." Comes the drawling voice of Rex Smythe-Higgins III as he nods in Helga's direction, but the slight raise of his eyebrows tell her that he knows something is out of sorts.

"No, Rex. Her name is -" Lila starts, but Helga cuts her off.

"Lila, may I have a word with you in the ladies' room. Right now!" She says through gritted teeth. She can see Jacques staring at the spectacle unfolding with a suspicious glare. As far as Helga can tell, only Lila knows her real identity and if Helga can just convince her to keep shut about it then the very worst that Jacques or Rex can do is throw her confused looks.

"Oh, yes that would be fine. I'll be back in a minute, Rex. Please try ever so hard not to miss me too much." Lila tells Rex with a reassuring pat on his arm. Helga watches as he squeezes Lila's hand affectionately in return.

"Impossible, dear lady." He says as he plants a gentle kiss on Lila's hand. As Lila pulls back, Helga catches her first glimpse of the ring on her old enemy's left hand as the diamond catches the light. There's a sort of catch in Helga's chest - an old sort of jealousy that she doesn't understand. But she looks at Lila and Rex together and can't help but feel sort of hollow.

Somewhere in the back of her mind she recognizes that that aching pang is loneliness, but she doesn't have time to dwell on it. With what she hopes is a confident smile, she takes hold of Lila's hand.

"Please excuse us, Rex. Oh, and Jacques I'll have to take a rain check on that food platter. Lila and I really must catch up - it's been so long since I've seen her!" With that, Helga leads Lila through a haze of party guests towards a small doorway off to the side of the room with a sign indicating restrooms lie beyond them. Helga pushes open the door and together she and Lila hurry off down a narrow hallway.

"Helga, could you slow down a bit? My shoes…"

Helga looks back to see Lila stumbling a bit in her heels.

"Sorry." She says flatly.

"No, it's my fault. I've never been very good at traipsing about in these ever so annoying contraptions. Your heels are even thinner than mine, yet you seem to be managing perfectly. You look absolutely stunning by the way. That dress is gorgeous on you and -"

"Shhh." Helga says as she slows her pace. "Hold all your thoughts until we're actually in the bathroom, okay?"

"Helga, what is going on exactly? Why are you here and what about the kidnapping and - PHMPH." Lila's barrage of questions comes to a swift end as Helga whirls back and clamps a firm hand over her mouth.

"Like I said, hold all questions for just a little bit, okay?" Helga says steadily, her eyes flashing. Lila flinches under her glare, but nods in affirmation. Helga holds her gaze for a moment longer before removing her hand from Lila's mouth and grabs hold of her arm once again. "Come on, I think it's the next door."

Helga tugs Lila into the ladies' room and immediately sets to work ducking under the stalls to make sure that no one else is around. Lila hangs back and watches as Helga finishes her rundown of the restroom and heads back to the door to slide the deadbolt across it.

"There. That should do."

"I think," Lila says, her lips pursed and her eyes narrowed, "you owe me an ever so damn good explanation, Helga."

"Uh, well. I'm really not sure how much I can… I can say. I just was hoping you'd be willing to… not rat me out? Help me pretend to be Helga van Büren and not make a fuss? Tell Rex to ignore me or something?" Helga pleads. Lila drums her fingers along the edge of the sink.

"I'm not comfortable with that. You always do this, y'know? This is like that silly Romeo and Juliet play all over again, Helga. I _want_ to help you oh so much, but how can I trust you when you don't trust me?" Lila says imploringly, her brown eyes staring down Helga with such intensity that Helga fears she might burst. Lila has always been good at making her feel stripped down and small. Helga's never been very good at deceiving Lila - especially in moments like this. When it's just the two of them and a giant secret lingering in between.

Helga leans her weight against the door and crosses her arms over her chest.

It's hard to trust this girl - Lila - who has always been just a little bit better than Helga in every conceivable way. This girl who had just a little more love, just a little more tragedy, just a little more perfect. And now they're both grown up and Lila's here at the very worst moment and with a shining, perfect ring on her manicured hand and Helga _needs_ Lila's help and that kills her.

But if they don't get that book…

Arnold's hopeful face suddenly floods into Helga's mind and that's enough. She can ask for Lila's help if it means seeing Arnold smile again. She'll do anything to keep his hope alive, because he is - and always will be - _Helga's_ hope, ever since that fateful rainy day when he held open an umbrella for her and effectively gave her life meaning and reason.

"Arnold's alive." Helga says suddenly. Lila lets out a soft gasp as Helga immediately sets about summarizing the story. Arnold on her doorstep, his parent's journal, El Corazon, their narrow escape from Hillwood, Wolfgang's assistance, Phoebe and Gerald's house. She tells Arnold's lost tale the best she can, trying to hammer the details down for herself as she speaks. His grandfather died, he lost it, his plane crashed and he survived, working in San Lorenzo as Phil, Ward bringing him El Corazon and the newspaper clipping. The newspaper clipping which led them here tonight - to steal one of Dr. Theodore D. Wash's priceless artifacts - the Green Eyes' Book of Healing.

Lila's eyes are glossy as she hands the newspaper article back to Helga, who had been carrying it in her handbag for safe keeping - along with a couple of fireworks and a lighter for her and Arnold's distraction plan.

"Wow." Lila says breathlessly, her hand nervously touching her throat. "Oh, Helga. This is… oh."

"You understand why I need you to keep quiet, right?" Helga says as she reaches out a hand towards Lila's arm. "I-I can't risk being caught. This plan _has_ to work. That waiter is already suspicious of me and if anyone finds out who I really am…" She trails off and glues her eyes to the floor. "I won't be able to follow him and I can't handle that. I _need_ to help him."

"Are you sure you should follow him?"

"Not you too." Helga says, frowning. "I thought you'd understand. You let me have your part in the play just so I could have a chance to kiss him. You were… always going on about that 'oh so special someone'. Don't you still believe in that junk? Or is it just that you don't think I deserve all that?"

"Oh, well." Lila crosses her arms in front of her and smiles weakly at Helga. "I do very much still believe in true love and you very much deserve to find it, but something about how you talk about him… It's like you seem to think that you owe him or something. I think there's a difference between feeling indebted to someone and truly loving a person."

"I _know that_." Helga says grumpily.

"You do?" Lila says quietly, before shrugging slightly. "Well, you're probably right. And it does sound awfully fun, doesn't it? All this adventure and mystery? There's plenty to love about _that_ anyway." Helga frowns at that, but Lila continues. "In any case, I'd love to help! I'll explain the situation to Rex and we'll do our best to help you. Oh! Perhaps I could set off the fireworks once you locate the book you're looking for? That way no one will be able to corner you."

"Oh, uh. No thanks. I mean, it's not… I don't think we should get you and Rex involved? I'm sure I'll be fine. But uh, thank you." Helga shakes her head. As if she needs to be more indebted to Lila than she already is.

"Are you sure?" Lila says, noticeably disappointed. "I'd like to help."

"Just… don't give away my real identity. That's all I'm asking."

"Well, okay. But if you need my help…"

"I know where to find you." Helga says as she lays a friendly hand on Lila's arm. "But really, you're doing more than enough by just… keeping quiet."

"Well, I'm good at that, in any case. I never did tell Arnold how you felt about him, did I?"

Suddenly, Helga feels a small surge of appreciation for Lila.

"No, you never did."

"Your secret is safe with me, Helga." Lila says, wrapping her fingers around Helga's. "Promise."

"T-thank you." Helga says softly as her blue eyes lock with Lila's brown ones.

"Well, come on. Rex is going to think I've run off to carry on a secret lesbian affair with you or something if I don't get back soon. By the way, you really do look stunning in that dress, Helga. It's a shame you're probably going to ruin it tonight."

"Ah well, it's not like I wasted my own money on it anyway." Helga says with a slightly guilty smile as she tightens her grip on her handbag containing, among other items, Gerald Johannson's stolen wallet.

"Hmmm… maybe I can talk Rex into reimbursing Gerald and Phoebe for whatever money you spend on this little excursion."

"N-no! Lila, that's… I'll pay Gerald and Phoebe back eventually. Once I get a new job that is. Uh… please don't… I'll figure it out." Helga fumbles. Lila laughs as she unlocks the door and holds it open for Helga.

"Coming?"

"I actually think I'm going to use the bathroom before I blow it up. I'll be out in a bit. Go ahead and find Rex"

"All right." Lila lingers in the doorway for a moment, her eyes scanning Helga's face. "Good luck, Helga Van Buren."

"Thank you, Lila."

Lila smiles as she turns. Helga watches the door swing shut behind her and only when it is completely closed does she finally turn to the bathroom mirrors, grip the sink counters and let out a tension relieving:

"Fuck."

As Lila makes her back towards the dance floor, Arnold is navigating his way through the kitchens, doing his best to look as inconspicuous as possible, which seems to be working so far, though he expects it is because everyone around is working too hard to notice or care about his presence in their space. Waiters are scurrying in and out with great rapidity while chefs bark orders at one another from across the room.

Slowly, he makes his way towards the very back of the kitchen where a few lonely people stand washing dishes. Arnold sighs inwardly as he leans against a wall near one of the dishwashers in an effort to collect his thoughts. This is a mess. The plan, which started out near perfectly, has completely dissolved. He has no idea where Helga is, if she's been ousted to the entire party or not yet. He doesn't know the Book of Healing looks like or where to find it and even if he knew those things that still doesn't guarantee that he's capable of _stealing_ it unnoticed.

With a groan, he pushes himself off the wall and starts heading back the way he came from, silently hoping that he'll be able to find Helga and regroup.

Arnold's thoughts are interrupted when he accidentally stumbles into a small, rounded man in a dishwashing uniform with greasy black hair pulled back from his face and little rat-like, beady eyes. The force of their collision knocks the smaller man onto his back and Arnold quickly reaches out a hand to help lift him back up.

"Hey, I'm so sorry about that. I wasn't watching where I was walking and -" Arnold pauses as he finally gets a good look at the man he's just knocked backwards. "Y-you!"

The Sewer King still seems dazed for a second, not quite sure of what he's seeing, but a dawning awareness slowly seems to creep over his features.

"You. You are… that boy. The boy who took my gators away! The boy who promised that would be enough to keep me ruling the sewers forever! But that didn't last. They took me away. Forced me to get a job, to be a commoner. They stripped me of all my power. Where were you, boy? You promised that giving up my gators would be enough."

"I-I never said that!" Arnold says as the Sewer King angrily backs him against a wall. "I just told you the gators were unhappy and that people would get suspicious about you shutting off the water every night! I didn't promise you anything - I didn't!"

"You did! You said no one would come looking without the gators! You lied, you miserable whelp! You lied and now I'm here - serving these disgusting people as they parade about their mansions pretending to be royalty. _I_ was royalty. I _am_ royalty. And now I'm here because of _you_!"

With that the Sewer King grabs hold of a very heavy-looking frying pan and lunges towards Arnold, who ducks under his arm and bolts down the length of the kitchen, ducking waiters and chefs as the Sewer King chases him down. People shout at them as they tear through the aisles, but no one seems to be able to put a halt to the spectacle. Knowing that breaking out onto the ballroom will cause the opposite of a _useful_ distraction, Arnold makes a sharp turn to the left and heads out a side door, which opens into a long hallway.

Arnold sprints down the hall, his mind racing in time with his legs. The Sewer King is tearing after him as fast as his shorter legs will carry him.

Arnold finally allows himself to say aloud what he has been thinking for awhile now.

"Fuck."

Arnold prays that Helga is having better luck.

* * *

**notes: **Sorry for the INSANE hiatus. I plan to work on the next chapter over the weekend so hopefully another update will be coming soon!

Thanks for sticking with me, you guys. I'm sorry this story is slow going. I WILL finish this story eventually.


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